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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28014300">Take Over</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedDawnWrites/pseuds/RedDawnWrites'>RedDawnWrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>League of Legends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>League of Legends - Freeform, eSports, pro gamer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:08:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>37,770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28014300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedDawnWrites/pseuds/RedDawnWrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor always knew he wanted to be an esports pro. He always looked up to the greats. One day in 2016 he decided to run away and find his glory. This is his story.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was nearly midnight - late enough that Park Do-jin should have started closing up, but too early to tell the late night stragglers at the bar to get home without causing them to make a fuss about the closing time. Outside the small noodle shop, a torrential downpour lashed at the streets of Seoul, the small pools of water from this afternoon’s light showers now becoming monstrous trenches of water and mud that splashed against the door with every passing car and city bus. Do-jin jumped a little as another clap of thunder shook the plates against his cabinets. He was an old man, by many accounts, and his greying hair and wrinkling hands had seen many a thunderstorm shake his tiny storefront. But still, Do-jin couldn’t shake the pit of nerves that every storm brought him when he looked outside, a feeling he’d had ever since he was a little boy. <br/>
“Appa.” Do-jin looked up to see his daughter giving him a pointed stare. She gestured at the time, then jerked her head in the direction of the stragglers. Do-jin sighed. He hated the idea of throwing people out into the rain - especially the drunk ones - not knowing if they’d be able to make it home. He wondered how many people got lost in rains like these, how many people walked into a puddle and never made it out. The thought scared him. <br/>
“We need to close up, and soon,” Eun-kyung said, with little empathy. “I have work in the morning. At my actual job... that pays me?” <br/>
“I’m getting to it,” Do-jin groaned, getting up from his spot at the cash register. He made sure to groan slightly louder than he really needed to. Eun-kyung needed to be reminded of his ailing old age sometimes - the younger generation rarely gave their elders the respect they needed. Maybe it was all that time she had spent abroad. <br/>
“Geez, Appa. You need to get to the gym more often. You’re too young to be that frail.” Do-jin sometimes wondered whether it was even worth it to have kids anymore.<br/>
Eun-kyung only rolled her eyes when he told her so.<br/>
With a bit of effort and some steely, disapproving gazes, Do-jin was able to get most of the people out of the restaurant, although he’d felt bad enough doing it that he called a couple of the more impaired people rides and gave them some water and dumplings to sober up before sending them home. Before he knew it, the bar area was cleared of people. But there was still one customer left in the shop.<br/>
“I can’t believe he’s still here,” Eun-kyung said, her voice a little softer. It was rare to see her with an ounce of caring towards any of the shop’s patrons, but the young boy who came to the shop every night for their cheapest meal was different. He couldn’t have been older than eighteen, perhaps he was even younger. Do-jin wasn’t sure, but he suspected the boy was a runaway. But clearly, not from around here. His accent was distinctly not Korean - Eun-kyung swore it was mid-western American or something, not that it meant anything to Do-jin. All he knew was that the boy was young, mostly broke, and didn’t seem to have much of a family. And the rain... the rain wasn’t promising.<br/>
“Talk to him, Appa? Ask him if we can call someone for him. If he’s sleeping outside he’s not going to make it through this.”<br/>
Do-jin nodded solemnly. As he approached the boy’s table, Do-jin realized he’d dozed off. He cleared his throat, and when that wasn’t enough to shake the teen out of his slumber, he shook his shoulder gently. <br/>
The boy awoke with a start. His eyes were wild, hair tousled and still damp as he stared as Do-jin with an expression of fear. “Ah! Mr. Park - um, sorry - I mean, joesonghamnida. I’ll leave now, I promise. And, uh, gamsamhamnida.” The boy spoke frantically, his syllables drawing together, heavy on his tongue. It took Do-jin a moment to even process his Korean. The boy made a move to stand up, but Do-jin held his hands out, calming him down.<br/>
“No, no, no going!” he said, trying to recall the ounce of English he had barely grasped in early high school. “You staying is good.”<br/>
The boy gave him a confused glance. “I can... stay? Um,” he paused for a moment, searching his thoughts, “Igeo gwaenchanh-a?” Is that okay? <br/>
“Hello.” Eun-kyung walked up to them, smiling more patiently than Do-jin had ever seen her in his life. “I think you can’t speak Korean well, yes? What’s your name?” The boy sighed, smiling a bit, looking relieved that he didn’t have to try to speak Korean anymore. For his part, Do-jin was glad to not have to dredge up any of the 30 words of English still in his vocabulary. “Yeah, sorry,” he admitted. “My name is Connor.<br/>
I’m sorry for falling asleep at your store, I promise it won’t happen again.”<br/>
Eun-kyung shook her head. “That’s okay. Do you have a place to sleep tonight<br/>
Connor? Can we call someone for you?” <br/>
His face melted back into one of unease. “I - well, I had a hostel that I was staying at, but I ran out of money. But don’t worry, there’s a good bus stop near here so<br/>
I can stay out of the rain-”<br/>
“No!” Do-jin exclaimed, unable to stop himself. The thought of the boy sleeping alone in the rain didn’t sit well with his fatherly senses. “No, bus stop is not good.”<br/>
“What my dad is saying is that you can stay here for the night if you need it,”<br/>
Eun-kyung said. “I know how it is to be in a new country without enough money.”<br/>
Connor shook his head, biting his lip. “No, you don’t understand. I mean, that’s very generous. And I’m very grateful. Um, I mean, gamsamhamnida-”<br/>
“Very good,” Do-jin admittedly couldn’t understand more than half of what Connor had said, but he took the thank you as a confirmation. “I make more soup for you.” he said in English. <br/>
“Appa-”<br/>
“Come, Eun-kyung, we need to fire up the stove. We’ll make one more batch for tomorrow and give him a bowl, hm?” Do-jin hurried into the kitchen, with Eun-kyung following him wearing a worried expression. <br/>
“Appa-” she continued as he began putting on his apron again. “I think that boy - Connor - could be in trouble. I mean, he clearly isn’t from here, and he can’t be older than a teenager. And he’s been sleeping outside? It doesn’t make sense. Where’s his family?”<br/>
“I know,” Do-jin said. “It doesn’t seem right.”<br/>
Eun-kyung nodded, stealing a glance back at the boy through the sheer curtains. “Right, so, I think we need to call the authorities. Maybe he’s missing or something. Or what if he’s involved in something bad?”<br/>
“No. No police.” Do-jin gave his daughter a hard stare as she sputtered at his insistence. “We lose his trust, he’s never going to be safe again. The Seoul police will likely just keep him for the night and put him right back onto the street.”<br/>
“So what do you think we should do? Take him in today and just let him sleep in the bus stop every other night?”<br/>
“No of course not,” Do-jin retorted. “I’m relieving you of your duty as fry cook and most sarcastic back-end help I’ve ever had.”<br/>
Eun-kyung gaped. “You’re going to give him my job?”<br/>
“You said yourself.” Do-jin chopped the onions, his hands older, but still nimble enough to do it with the speed he’d had at twenty. As he scraped the vegetables into the pot of stew, he smiled to himself. There was nothing a good pot of soup couldn’t fix. Well, except perhaps Eun-kyung’s glare. “You complain all the time that I don’t pay you enough to be here and that this job takes up too much time from your other job.<br/>
Consider this your chance to escape my boring noodle shop.”<br/>
Eun-kyung opened her mouth to protest, but shut it as Do-jin shoved a bowl into her hands and poured the finished broth into it. “Alright, go take it to him. We can tell him about his new job after he eats and strengthens up.”<br/>
“My current job,” Eun-kyung protested half heartedly, as she grabbed a tray and took the soup outside to the boy. Do-jin sighed, his heart warm again. The rain was bad, yes. And he wondered if some of his patrons had gotten home safe that night. But if he could save this boy from a night of sleeping with newspapers for a blanket in the dead of night, maybe his soul would be saved.<br/>
“He’s gone.”<br/>
“What?”<br/>
“Appa,” Eun-kyung set the tray down hard, and the soup sloshed over the side of the bowl. “He left. He’s probably somewhere out there now. Sleeping in the rain.” XA cold chill went through Do-jin’s spine at those words. “Why- why would he leave?”<br/>
Eun-kyung grimaced. “I, uh. Think he heard us talk about the police-”<br/>
“Heard you talk about the police.”<br/>
“Right,” Eun-kyung admitted. “He probably got scared. Ran away.”<br/>
Do-jin set his apron aside, staring deep into the pot of soup, his thoughts swirling rapidly in his mind. That poor boy, all alone in the middle of a storm. Nowhere to go forward, no one to turn back to. No idea what challenges the next day would bring, and the crippling fear that you might not make it until the next morning to find out. It brought him back to his darkest days of childhood. The nights where the thunder would feel too close, because it was. Because there were no windows and no doors in their tiny lean-to shelter on the side of the road. There was nothing but rain.<br/>
“So,” Eun-kyung said, finally. “Does this mean I get my job back?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Beads of sweat dripped down Connor’s forehead as he squinted his eyes in intense focus. Every muscle in his body was tense, every ounce of his attention focused on the task at hand. His hands ached and his fingers had gone numb, but he had no other option than to push on. His team was counting on him. The gleam of the computer screen pierced his tired, sleep-deprived eyes, but he carried on.  <br/>“Koebalt, you absolute moron, you’re a fucking disgrace to this team!” Connor winced as the ear-splitting, crackling voices of his teammate reached his ears from his headset. Using Discord to communicate with voice chat seemed like a great idea at the time to get better at coordinating his team. Connor quickly realized it had been a huge mistake the moment Jordan started talking again. “I told you to destroy midtier one like a whole five minutes ago! Why the fuck haven’t you started on it yet?” <br/>Jordan, or xXDeathBringerXxx9000, as he often asked people to refer to him as on the League of Legends forums, had been on his case all morning. Connor gritted his teeth in frustration as the other man hurled another string of insults at him, but he didn’t let his often useless teammate’s vitriolic outrage distract him from the task at hand. Jordan was the kind of player that Connor thought of as the hardest to play with - often shortsighted and with very little knowledge of actual gameplay techniques past the beginners strategies that every person who watched a twenty minute Youtube video could figure out, but with all the arrogance and anger of a pro. It was exhausting to try and explain team strategy to him, only to see his player running in the opposite direction a minute later. <br/>“Jordan-” <br/>“Deathbringer9000.” <br/>Connor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, Fuckface9000. Please tell me  a good reason I would want to destroy it. Destroying the turret would give the opponent an opportunity to freeze on me. I’d literally be bleeding five hundred golds every few waves, like a fucking idiot. The lane’s in a favorable spot and I know what I’m fucking doing. At least until you fucked it up.” <br/>Jordan let out a frustrated groan. “I’ve never heard your weird ass strategy before. The Youtube guide I watched basically said to always destroy turrets. Are you sure you even know what you’re doing?” <br/>“Jordan, please just shut the fuck up and let Koebalt do his thing. You’re always lagging behind and fucking up the whole team anyway,” Kira, another teammate, spoke up in support, earning an offended yell from Jordan. Connor grinned at this - Jordan had been a thorn at his side for days. Anything that could knock his ego down a few pegs was helpful. <br/>“I told you to stop calling me Jordan! And anyway, it’s not like Koebalt’s in the pro leagues or anything. He’s just another fuckwad probably in his mom’s basement drinking Mountain Dew. Why the hell is everyone on this team always listening to him for all the strategies?” <br/>“Got any better ideas from those Youtube video guides you watch, Jordan?” Astrid asked with little emotion in her artificial baritone. Her voice was modulated to sound deeper than it really was, but it was pretty obvious that she was a woman, a fact that Jordan never seemed to be able to get over. Not that it mattered - Astrid’s bot play as Draven was almost always a force to reckon with, even with Jordan often blowing it as her support. If there was one player Connor would hope would be on his team in a real competition match, it was Astrid. That is, if he ever even got to do a real competition match. The way it was looking for him now, the major leagues seemed to slip further and further from his grasp. <br/>“Uh, I died again, you guys,” Jordan said. “Clearly Koebalt’s method is dogshit.” <br/>“Oh no, Jordan. It’s so  much harder for me in bot lane without you. You were doing so much to support me. How will I ever survive now?” Astrid deadpanned. <br/>“Don’t blame me for your dumbass play style,” Connor said. “If you had just listened to me from the beginning and made sure to respect Leona’s Level 2 power spike you would’ve actually been useful to this fucking team and we wouldn’t be in this goddamn mess.” <br/>“Whatever, man, I’m going to the shop.” <br/>“Good idea, maybe you can buy some actual skills while you stock up abilities that you’ll never actually use,” Astrid replied. <br/>“No, dumbfucks. I mean I’m out. I’ve been getting bullied this whole time and I’m done with this bullshit. I’m going to the actual shop and leaving my actual house unlike you basement-dwellers.” <br/>“You’re leaving mid-match?” Kira nearly screeched “Not like we needed him anyway,” Astrid said. <br/>Connor groaned. This literally could not be happening to him. Not now, not when he so desperately needed a win today. “Jordan, you fuckwad. Get your ass back to the motherfucking keyboard or I will personally come to your house and murder you.” <br/>“Fuck you!” Jordan responded, apparently unfazed by Connor’s anger and his own betrayal of the entire team.  <br/>“Listen to me, you pile of steaming garbage. If you go AFK I will fuck you up. You’re a coward and a moron. This isn’t your first goddamn match and I’m not fucking joking anymore.” <br/>Astrid snickered, entirely unphased. There was no response from Jordan. <br/>Connor yelled his name again. <br/>“Oh, he’s going to die,” Kira said, his voice filled with a quieter rage. “If he even fucking shows his face on the Discord again-” <br/>“Jordan is so goddamn useless anyway,” Astrid countered.  <br/>“Alright, fuck,” Connor ran a hand through his hair, grabbing the sweaty locks in his stress. “Whatever, fuck that asshole-” <br/>“That’s pretty gay, but I support your journey.” <br/>“Shut the hell up, Astrid. If we have to do this 4 v. 5, then we’ll fucking murder red team 4 v 5. We’ll send them all packing and we’ll make them cry because we did it with one less player. Stick to the fucking plan, get those kills in, and let’s destroy the hell out of these guys.” <br/>“Yes, boss,” Kira replied. <br/>“Nice locker room speech. Straight from Friday Night Lights?” It was the closest Connor would probably ever get to a compliment from Astrid, so he would take it. But right now, he needed his remaining teammates (the ones not about to get an assassin sent after them) to put his head back in the game. He needed to not lose this match. <br/>Connor smiled, flexing his fingers as he re-focused on his gameplay. “Great. Now let’s get that tower, team.” </p><p>*** <br/>They won the match. <br/>Jordan came back to the chat to ‘celebrate’. <br/>Kira found his address online and was now presumably on his way to Jordan’s house to strangle him. <br/>Conner groaned, rubbing his aching eyes in exhaustion as he leaned back into his chair. He blinked as his gaze refocused off of the computer screen and back to his real life surroundings. It was almost evening in Seoul, and the streetlights and shop windows were now lighting up the surrounding area around the PCBang. Looking around the cafe, there seemed to be plenty of other people who probably hadn’t noticed how late it was either. Although some people came to internet cafes just to get a few hours of internet usage when they didn’t have a computer at home - mostly elderly people who just wanted to email their grandkids and find recipes - most of the patrons held the same dreams and hopes Connor did. They sat at the computer for half of the day, playing from dusk until dawn, scouring the internet for resources and strategies, yelling over their headsets in the private rooms and furiously flaming chat rooms when the cafe’s staff told them (usually for the tenth time that day) to quiet down. <br/>It was a hard knock road, but Connor had known that from the beginning - from the day he’d fired up his laptop his freshman year of high school in a small midwestern farming town where most of the residents didn’t even know what the word MOBA meant. Connor’s first match had been expectedly terrible, and he’d consequently been told over chat by one of his teammates - in no uncertain terms - that his skills had brought dishonor on his whole family and he should just commit seppuku and save his family the disappointment. <br/>But Connor had never been one to back down from a challenge. Every angry message and lost match just drew him back to League of Legends even more. Soon he was spending days going over strategies, looking up and researching every aspect of the game to hone his knowledge, playing matches day and night to improve his experience. It wasn’t long before what started as a casual hobby became something he was ready to fight for. <br/>A rap at the door shook the young man out of his stupor, and Connor turned to see one of the staff members point towards his watch from outside the private room. It was a quarter past eight, already ten minutes past his scheduled endtime. He hoped the owners would be kind enough to overlook it and not charge him again. Getting the room at the hostel had taken up most of his cash in the first month, and now living on the street left little money to use for daily necessities, let alone for double charges at the PCBang. At the very least, the night would end on a good note. The 4 v 5 had only strengthened Connor’s resolve, and made him thirst more for the golden ticket to the big leagues. He was already acing these weak ranked matches even with people like Jordan bringing his team down. Connor was aching for a real challenge. Connor quickly began packing up his things - the little he had, at least - and headed quietly out of the room.  <br/>Seoul, South Korea was as different from Plainsboro, Nebraska as a city could be. Bustling with life, bright lights and colors in every direction, streets that were very nearly paved with gold in some areas- it was a wonder for a small town boy from America who hadn’t even made it to New York. For Connor, these last few months had been far more exciting than any other chapter of his life - and perhaps, any other chapter of his families’ life too. The Price family had a happy and strict legacy of staying in Middle-of-Nowhere, America for the last one hundred and fifty years. No Price had left Plainsboro since the late 1800s - a fact that Connor’s father proudly recalled every time Connor had brought up the thought of getting out of town.  <br/>Prices don't leave each other, Connor - at least not the good ones. We stick it out together. That’s the only way. <br/>Connor wondered if his parents had already put the black mark over his name on the family tree and moved on with their lives. He wondered if he would ever be welcome back.  <br/>Thinking of home was painful, especially when Connor thought about the people he had left behind. His mother’s face the night after the last fight he had with his father, his dad’s rage when Connor had told him he didn’t want to continue with the family business. His sister’s look of quiet desperation when he locked eyes with her as she gazed through the windows of their house out at him, with his bags packed and a one way ticket to the other side of the world. And... June. <br/>June was the only person who had understood him in that town. The only one who was able to see past the endless mazes of cornfields and crop circles, the one way streets and single lane highways, the singular gas station at the edge of town. She wanted to see the world someday too - some day when she was feeling better, and when every step she took wasn’t filled with agony. Connor felt a pang in his heart as the memories came back.  <br/>“Ya!  Josimhaeyo!” An annoyed voice called out. <br/>Connor balked as his attention returned back to his surroundings. His left arm tingled with pain and he looked to see a man who seemed slightly older was looking at him with annoyance as he picked up a grocery bag off of the sidewalk. Connor clutched his arm, wincing slightly. He had probably crashed into the bag in his distraction.  <br/>“Sorry,” he offered, leaning over to pick up the stray onions that were now rolling around the sidewalk. As he came closer to the stranger, he could make out his features better in the streetlights. To Connor’s surprise, he didn’t seem like he was from around here either - another foreigner. His voice was almost familiar, even though he spoke Korean, but Connor couldn’t place it. “Should watch where I’m going,” Connor admitted, handing him the onions. <br/>The man sighed. “It’s fine. No harm done, right? Other than a few bruised onions.”  <br/>Connor jumped at his sudden switch to English - American English, too. It sounded like this guy was straight from the streets of New York, not Seoul. “I- um. <br/>Wow,” he replied, dumbfounded. <br/>The stranger laughed as they stood back up, and gathered his bags. “Yeah, I figured you weren’t from around here. Take care, kid.” <br/>In the glow of the streetlights, Connor saw the man’s face as he turned around to leave. His mind reeled - it was so  familiar, someone he thought he should know. Someone he’d met before, or seen before. But before he could say anything, he had disappeared into the bustling crowds of the Seoul streets. <br/>A crack of thunder erupted from the skies above, and Connor groaned internally. Another night, another rainstorm to fitfully sleep through at a random bus station. Maybe tonight he’d get lucky and find one that didn’t have blindingly bright billboard advertisements right next to it that made it practically impossible to fall asleep. Connor usually tried not to let things like sleep or how much he’d eaten throughout that day affect his play skills, but it had been harder over the last few weeks. It was one thing to have trouble falling asleep in a noisy hostel with an uncomfortable bed - it was quite another to lie awake all night in the middle of a storm, soaking wet and stomach still half-empty with only one bowl of noodle soup to keep him going. And tonight, he didn’t even have the noodle soup, on account of Mr. Park realizing that Connor was <br/>homeless. The last thing he needed was the authorities on his tail on top of everything else that seemed to be going wrong in his life.  <br/>As Connor sat down under a nearby bus station for the night, the sky cracked open, pouring rain over him. He rested his head on the back of his backpack, shrugged off his damp jacket and threw it over him, and settled in for another night of fitful sleep</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The morning started off with Connor's first lost match in a week. </p><p> </p><p>He nearly threw his keyboard. </p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, this time he didn't have to deal with the likes of Jordan being extremely annoying and questioning his every move, but it didn't feel much better to be on the losing side even when his teammates were good. Maybe he should have just stayed in Plainsboro and graduated at his backwards-ass high school. Maybe he should have just sucked it up and spent the rest of his life working at his dad's farming tools store, watching old farmer man after old farmer man enter and exit through those old creaky doors for the rest of time. Maybe the rest of the world was overrated. </p><p> </p><p>Pushing the thoughts of failure out of his mind, Connor opened up a new match. Yesterday's 4 v 5 victory had pushed him to wake up and grind harder this morning, but it apparently hadn't paid off. Loss made Connor antsy. He was like a shark in the water, hungry for his next meal, out for blood wherever he could find it. Sure, he should have stopped for a lunch break, but eating on a loss didn't feel right to him. He needed to go out with a bang this week - he needed just one more victory. </p><p> </p><p>As the players on his team filed for the next match, Connor readied himself, then did a double take. He frowned, blinking twice as he stared at the screen. He couldn't be reading it right - maybe he did need glasses after all. </p><p> </p><p>There, on the left hand of the computer screen, there were two defining letters in bold white font: LS. The chat erupted in shock and awe, and Connor gaped. This couldn't be happening to him right now. </p><p> </p><p>Nick de Cesare - known as LS online - was a legendary player, a coach to the best, known in virtually every corner of the online gaming universe. He had moved to South Korea to become Samsung's protege player when he was 18 years old, while </p><p> </p><p>Connor was still sitting behind a classroom desk learning how to do long division. What Connor hadn't known back then was that he would be following in de Cesare's footsteps not long after, with a dream in his own back pocket. </p><p> </p><p>Well, at least, he hoped to follow in his footsteps. Now he wasn't sure if he could even make it through this match without disappointing his idol. Connor refrained from typing anything in the chat professing his worship for LS, unlike the rest of his teammates, who seemed to have no shame. If LS was going to notice him, it would be because of his gameplay. </p><p> </p><p>Connor gripped his keyboard as he selected his champion. Azir was his main - had been since he'd started playing in ranked, although he'd been terrible at it in the beginning. At first, in his fourteen year old brain, it was just because Azir had a cool design, all gold and royal purple, his trident jutting out with a large spike, an instant killing machine. But the more time Connor had spent perfecting his technique with the elusively difficult champion, all the hours and late nights spent locked in his room in secret working on new combos and innovative strategies, he had grown to feel a special kind of bond for the character. Azir had a mission to bring back his former kingdom the glory it deserved. In a way, Connor felt the same way towards his family legacy. There had to be more out there for a Price than every day and night spent at a farming hardware store. </p><p> </p><p>The chatroom was active again, and Connor saw that LS had mentioned him. We	 got an Azir player here? Geez. Better hope ur good or ur gonna wreck this whole team with those bullshit combos. </p><p> </p><p>Connor bit the inside of his cheek as he felt a pang in his chest. People often said that LS was pretty blunt during matches - like most players were - , that what he said didn't necessarily say anything about a player's ability. But his doubt of Connor's gameplay skills only lit a fire under his ass to blow the coach out of the water. It was Azir or bust for Connor, and he would show LS the best midlane play he'd ever seen. </p><p> </p><p>*** </p><p> </p><p>Summoner's Rift stretched out all around Connor. The lush jungles grew around him, full of monsters and creatures to defeat. He could see the scuttle crabs in the rivers, Behind him, his teammates scoured the map, heading into enemy territory and exploring the depths of the jungle. But his greatest challenge lay ahead. In front of him, the red team enemies of the midlane charged towards him with no mercy. Connor gulped as he saw the champion leading the charge, a dark knight of death, ruthless and unforgiving. It was Zed, notoriously known as the hardest matchup against Azir. Trading would be pointless. Maybe LS was right. Maybe Azir was the wrong choice. </p><p> </p><p>As if reading his mind, one of his teammates spoke up in the chat: Bro, koebalt	 you are fucked. The hell were u thinkin with Azir vs. Zed. </p><p> </p><p>Another message popped up: Our midlane's fucking useless now I guess. Better	 hope the jungler knows what they're doing </p><p> </p><p>Then, LS spoke up again: stfu and focus on ur own shit. If koebalt fucks up for	 the whole team we can tell him to kill himself later. </p><p> </p><p>Connor wasn't sure if that last message was in his favor or not. He was defending him against the detractors, motivating Connor to prove them wrong, but there was an undertone of warning in the message. Don't disappoint. Don't screw it up. </p><p> </p><p>It didn't matter what LS or the other players thought. He'd gone against Zed before, and he'd come out victorious. Sure, that was in early ranked levels, where the players weren't as skilled and probably didn't use Zed's abilities in the best way, but it was better than nothing. Connor squinted, trying to recall what he knew about Zed. </p><p> </p><p>He's useless before level 6. I just need to make sure I slow push and punish him before he gets there. Attack during cooldowns, avoid his shadows. Use the Azirsec to deal any blows I need to. Take first blood. </p><p> </p><p>Taking a deep breath, Connor dove in. </p><p> </p><p>He started off slow, pushing from afar. There was little do here but punish, rinse and repeat. Connor waited for Zed to cool down between trades, then went in strong. It should have worked, but going against Zed in the higher levels was practically impossible. No matter what move Connor did against the player, he always seemed to know Connor's next move. And maybe even the one after that. Soon, it felt less like he had a strategy and more like he was pointlessly button mashing. </p><p> </p><p>"Shit," he whispered, as Zed's attack lunged towards Azir. He slammed his fingers into the keys of his keyboard, barely dodging the nearly lethal blow. He hoped none of his teammates had been witness to that. </p><p> </p><p>	The chat pinged again. Azir kid's gonna die pretty soon. Rip.	 </p><p> </p><p>Great. Connor groaned, gearing up to trade against Zed once more, who was now cooling down. This trade went slightly better than the first, and he was at a far enough distance to effectively avoid Zed's shadows. </p><p> </p><p>"You're doing good, Connor," he said to himself. </p><p> </p><p>That mentality did not last long. As if specifically taunting Connor's will to live, Zed dodged every single one of his trades, then Connor nearly died after forgetting to dodge a shadow. He bumbled around for a second, feeling like an imcompetent fool. </p><p> </p><p>The other player seemed to notice this and only used his vulnerabilities as an opening to attack again. Still dazed, Connor quickly smashed his keyboard, dodging the attacks. Shit. Now he was on defense when he should've been on offense. This fight was a loss waiting to happen. </p><p> </p><p>No, now was not the time to think so negatively. Connor re-focused, thinking on his feet. There was still time to kill Zed early on, but he couldn't commit too much to the early game. His only hope was to kill and then farm fast enough to level up to three to get his power spike before Zed's player fully recovered. </p><p> </p><p>Trying to remember the combos he'd learned on a late night Youtube binge a month ago, Connor launched a full combo attack on Zed, one that immediately brought the other player's HP down from 70% to 50%. A level that could be manageable, with some skill. He still had to play carefully, but Connor knew there was a shot for him to earn a small victory in this impossible fight. </p><p> </p><p>Connor bided his time, watching carefully for any misstep on Zed's part. Even pro players sometimes overstepped, but they corrected it quickly enough that only careful observation would betray the mistake. Connor eyed his opponent like a hawk, tracking his every move. And then, the moment happened. </p><p> </p><p>Connor struck with no mercy, and Zed went down in a flurry. </p><p> </p><p>First Blood </p><p> </p><p>The computer screen flashed with his accomplishment, and not too long after, the chat erupted with his teammates' responses. </p><p> </p><p>Holy shit, first blood to the azir kid? </p><p> </p><p>Nice job azir. Now have fun dying when he respawns. </p><p> </p><p>Not if Connor could help it. He doubled down for the rest of the game, giving the battle his all. In the end, though Zed won out. His kill against the other player was a nice symbolic victory, but the lane was decimated by the opponent. </p><p> </p><p>Still, the blue team was able to take the tower down overall, even though Connor wasn't able to help much in that regard. And though his battle ultimately ended in failure, his teammates didn't seem to see it that way. </p><p> </p><p>Azir kid died like ten times but he died with dignity. </p><p> </p><p>Glory to Shurima! </p><p> </p><p>Srs respect for u koebalt. </p><p> </p><p>Then, the respon he had been waiting for came through. LS replied in the chat. </p><p> </p><p>Seriously, nice gameplay kid. You held your own. I'm impressed. </p><p> </p><p>Connor bit back a grin as he typed back, Thanks. Not too bad yourself, I hear. He replied, a bit cheeky. </p><p> </p><p>Funny. </p><p> </p><p>For real, though, I love your gameplay, man. I actually came out to Seoul to make it in the leagues like yourself. </p><p> </p><p>Seriously? You're out here too? LS replied. Well, damn. I'll be at Mr. Park's	 noodle shop on the corner of the Myeon-dong shopping market at 5:00 PM. Give me a chance to roast your OP GG in person at least. </p><p> </p><p>As the players began to log off the match, Connor gaped. Was this an invitation to talk to the legend himself? A meeting with someone who he'd idolized since he'd first looked up a match of League, enamoured by the complex combinations and well thought out strategies. The winner, the coach to many, the man it seemed so many players idolized. </p><p> </p><p>And he wanted to talk to Connor.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor walked down the streets of Seoul with a kind of abandon he hadn’t felt in a while. Most of his time in South Korea had been spent looking for work, looking for food, looking for a roof over his head - looking for anything to make his time here worth while. And now, this meeting might be his chance. <br/>It was nearly November, and the cold, damp winds of winter slapped against Connor’s face and light jacket with no mercy. He’d come to South Korea nearly two months ago, when the autumn air was still light and breezy, and the temperature didn’t require anything more than what he’d brought. Connor smiled ruefully as he tugged the jacket closer to his body in a fruitless attempt to keep slightly warmer. He had been so naive to think that, by November, he would be living out his dream as a competitive player in the LCK. Now he barely had enough to eat and a palace to sleep for the night. <br/>Connor nearly crashed into a few old ladies as he crossed the street to Mr. Park’s noodle shop, stepped into a puddle and shook out his shoe, and stumbled almost face first into the kitschy noodle shop, still wet from the rain. <br/>He grimaced as heads in the shop turned the moment he opened the door. He was hoping to keep a low profile this time in Mr. Park’s shop, especially because the las thing he needed now that LS would potentially be involved in his life was a run in with the authorities. Back in Plainsboro, law enforcement wasn’t looked at very kindly. Most of the time, disputes with the authorities ended in farmers getting shafted and the local and state governments rarely, if ever, listening to their concerns. Needless to say, Connor didn’t really trust Seoul’s detectives to be any better. And he didn’t want to end up in an orphanage or foster home somewhere. <br/>Thankfully, the restaurant seemed to be busier than ever tonight, probably on account of the lighter, but still cool weather. There were two servers in the front that Connor didn’t recognize - and, fortunately, who didn’t seem to recognize Connor. He checked his watch. It was only 5:05, so he wasn’t too late. LS - Nick, he supposed he should refer to him in person as - had probably just arrived.  <br/>Connor gingerly shuffled through the restaurant floor, peeking at various patrons without trying to be too imposing. He didn’t really remember what Nick looked like up close - he hadn’t looked up one of his streams for a while - but he did recall his locks of stringy, blonde hair, a hairstyle not often found in Korea. Still, after a bit of searching, Connor wasn’t able to spot anyone similar to Nick. <br/>Maybe 5:05 had been too late. Had Nick come to the restaurant and just decided to leave when he didn’t see any sign of Connor? Was he some sort of stickler for time? <br/>Just when Connor was about to take a seat and hope for the best, a voice called out to him. <br/>“Koebalt? Is that you?” <br/>Connor spun around, ready to lock eyes with the man he had previously only seen through a computer screen, from millions of miles away. He did a double take as he took in the man in front of him. <br/>“Oh shit, it’s you!” He blurted out without hesitation, then winced internally. The guy in front of him was Nick, but he was also the man that Connor had unceremoniously bumped into on the street last night. Now it all made sense, why he had felt like he knew the man. It was the same player that Connor had been watching rise to success for years on end. <br/>Nick, for his part, didn’t seem to take offense or be surprised at Connor’s outburst. Perhaps that was because he was used to people acting this way around him. Connor imagined he was probably quite a superstar in South Korea. But it was odd that he didn’t seem to recognize Connor from the street. “Yep. Name’s Nick,” he said cheerily, as if Connor wouldn’t already know that from his obsessively in depth knowledge of LS.  <br/>“I’m, um, Connor,” he replied, still slightly in awe.  <br/>“Nice to meet you, Connor. I gotta say,” Nick continued as he began to walk, “I like your username. It’s got a good ring to it. And it’s not an acronym so it doesn’t encourage people to always make stupid nicknames about it to taunt you. You’re gonna need that when you make it to the big leagues.” <br/>Connor blinked, taking in Nick’s words silently as he quickly slung his backpack over his shoulder and caught up to the other man. As they walked to an empty table to sit down, Nick opened up a menu and quirked an eyebrow across the table at Connor. <br/>“So you’re the guy that somehow played Azir to defeat a high level Zed. I can’t lie. <br/>Saying that I’m impressed might be an understatement.” <br/>Inside, Connor thought his head might explode. But he knew he had to play it cool. “Well, it was just some quick thinking,” he said, his voice low. “Nothing too flashy. <br/>It just came naturally.” <br/>Nick narrowed his eyes. “Naturally, my ass. How long have you been practicing those combos? You hit basically every Azirsec without any hesitation, no wrong moves, perfect timing. Tell me the truth: how long have you been out here competing?” <br/>Connor balked. Would it look bad if he admitted just how much he had winged half of the things Nick was talking about? That he’d never actually competed since he’d been out here in Korea? Connor had put in a good amount of effort into League, and he wasn’t anywhere close to a lazy player. He put in the time, did the research, dove into the strategy videos for hours at a time. But, in reality, he knew the truth: there was something different about him. From the moment he’d opened his first match, Connor had a type of intuition about the game, something that made the whole endeavour come naturally to him. Most players took about one to two years to reach the Platinum rank. Connor had gotten there in four months. And while high Diamond remained out of reach for so many people who were playing ranked, by the end of the year, Connor could boast that status. By his sophomore year of high school, most kids his age who played barely hit silver level while Connor had dreams of playing in the major leagues. <br/>“Well?” Nick pressed him. <br/>Connor sucked in a breath. “Honestly, I’ve only been playing for a year and a half. Started just towards the end of season 4.” <br/>Nick frowned. “Don’t bullshit me. You’ve only been playing for two seasons?”  <br/>“More like one... and a half. Generously.” <br/>Nick started shaking his head, pulling out a laptop from his bag and opening it up with a vigor Connor hadn’t anticipated. “That’s literally insane. Did you fucking steal someone’s old account or something? How the hell are you in Master tier?” Nick looked up, his eyes a little wild and his mouth agape. “Tell me you’re lying. You had to have started at least in season 2. Even three I would believe. But one year? It says here that your profile was created in July 2015.” <br/>Connor bit back a grin, trying to hide how much he was enjoying this conversation. It was still somewhat surreal to him, this moment. Nick de Cesare, legendary player and highly sought after League coach, was amazed at him. Connor briefly wondered if he should pinch himself. He shrugged nonchalantly. “I grinded pretty hard.” <br/>Nick looked at him with a doubtful expression, but thankfully they were interrupted by the waiter. After he took both their orders, with Connor ordering the cheapest thing on the menu, Nick turned back to Connor.  <br/>Nick studied him for a minute. Connor wondered what the coach was thinking, whether the other man was doubting Connor’s legitimacy or (hopefully) sitting in awe of Connor’s abilities. He was silent for an uncomfortably long amount of time, then Nick’s eyes widened and he pointed a finger towards Connor. “You’re the guy on the street last night!” he said with a slight gasp. <br/>Connor flinched a bit, taken aback at the sudden accusation. Nick seemed to notice this and put his hand down, suddenly calmer. “I didn’t recognize you earlier,” Nick admitted. “I have an eye condition. It makes it hard to see when it’s raining because my glasses get all fogged and damp.” <br/>“Right, yeah. Sorry about that, by the way.” Connor replied, a bit sheepish. “I should watch where I’m going.” <br/>Nick waved the apology off. “Nah. The sidewalks here are way too small for how many people are on them all the time. I’m still not used to this many people walking everywhere and I’ve been here for years. And it’s just so much worse when I can’t see well.” <br/>“Yeah,” Connor laughed, “I’ve only been here since August but I already get anxiety walking down those sidewalks. I always feel like I’m going to run someone over.” <br/>Nick nodded slowly. “August, huh? So what’s your day job?” <br/>“No job,” Connor admitted. “I mean, I used to have a job. Back home. My dad had a farming hardware store in town - well, it was my great grandparents’ farming hardware store, but my dad just inherited it from my grandpa. And I was actually supposed to inherit it too. My dad wanted me to be in the family business from the moment I was born - I think he made me a special Price Hardware 	onesie just to get me started as early as possible,” Connor rambled. He felt a heat rising in his cheeks as he spoke, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “But, anyway, I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life selling tractor wrenches and plastic mulch layers. And anyway, my sister Peggy was always so much more interested in all that entrepreneurial bullshit. I just - I don’t know - <br/>I just wanted more.”  <br/>Nick seemed to take this in as the waiter returned with the food. They dug in, Connor forcing himself to eat less ravenously than he usually did. It was a hard job to savor the noodles in front of him after not eating since the night before. Connor’s stomach practically cried in relief after being empty all day. Nick slurped his noodles, and stared at Connor for a slightly unnerving amount of time, his head tilted in thought. “Let me guess,” he said, between bites of his noodles. “You wanted to become some kind of e-sports pro player, get all the glory and medals, land some cushy partnership with a gaming company, and spend the rest of your days milking your two competition wins in Youtube gaming commercials,” he deadpanned. <br/>Connor bit the inside of his cheek. He knew Nick was speaking in jest, but he took his words as a challenge. “No, that’s not it. I want to become the best,” he replied, a steely edge to his voice, “I don’t care what it takes. If it takes twenty years, so be it. If I have to study and practice twenty hours a day and sleep thirty hours a week I’ll do it. If I need to give up food and shelter, then it’ll be worth it. I don’t care what I need to give up to become the ultimate champion. And I’m staying here until it happens.” <br/>“Right, right,” Nick said, leaning back in his chair. “And meanwhile you’re going to starve to death in your 5 square meters large Goshiwan.” <br/>“What?” <br/>Nick sighed, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. “Look, I get it. You’re motivated. You’re extremely talented, by the looks of it. I mean, I basically never see an OP GG that I can’t roast pretty hard. But seriously, Connor, what the hell are you doing out here? No job, no plans other than gaming all day? Sounds like a teenage dream but how the fuck are you eating? You mooching off your parents or something?” <br/>Connor snorted. “My dad would rather die an early death than give me money. <br/>Especially not to chase my dreams of becoming a pro gamer. I saved up a 1000 dollars for the past three years. Birthday money and time working at the shop. I blew most of it on the flight ticket here though,” Connor admitted.  <br/>“So how are you affording rent?” <br/>“Well... I was 	affording rent. Last month. But this month I realized I would run out of money for PCBangs and noodles if I kept living in my Gosh- goshi-” Connor stumbled. <br/>“Goshiwan,” Nick finished for him, his tone incredulous. “So what, you’re homeless?” <br/>Connor hated thinking that about himself. He had pride - slightly misplaced, sure. He was a traveler. A dreamer. A fighter. Connor felt defeated when he realized, at that moment in the noodle shop, across from one of the most successful e sports players and coaches in history, that he was basically just a loser from the midwestern plains who was sleeping on the streets of Seoul. Still, he simply nodded, confirming Nick’s assumptions. He looked down at the table, trying to hide the flush in his cheeks. <br/>“Hey,” Nick said, finally, his tone softer now. “Look, you seem like a good kid. You are a kid, right?” <br/>“No. I’m 16.” <br/>“Right, so a kid,” Nick continued. “A bit... maybe a lot impulsive, but your dreams are in the right place. And you’ve got the stats for going pro eventually, there’s not a doubt in my mind about that.” <br/>Connor’s heart leaped into his throat. “So... would you potentially think about coaching me? I don’t have a lot of money but I’m sure I can find something underground-” <br/>Nick held up his hands. “No, no, fuck that, geez. I’m not taking a homeless child’s money. You want me to go to hell?” <br/>“So...that’s a no?” <br/>Nick sighed, chewed on his lip a bit. “Look, you are a perfect student. Full of tons of potential, apparently so motivated you were willing to jump on a plane with absolutely no back up plan. But I can’t do it.” <br/>Connor glared. “What are you talking about? You just said-” <br/>“I know what I said. It stands true. And if you were even just 18 years old, out of high school, here with a job, I would take you in a heartbeat. But, kid, you’re swimming out of your depth. LCK takes barely any international students, and it’s even harder if you’re a minor. And your family - do they even know where the hell you are?” <br/>At Connor’s silence, Nick let out a low whistle. “I literally don’t know what to say. Other than you’re one crazy son of a bitch. Flying across the world alone with 200 dollars in your back pocket and a dream less than 0.01% of players achieve.” “I’m just committed,” Connor retorted. <br/>“No, what you are is a fucking idiot.” Nick stood up from the table, shoving his laptop into his bag. He grabbed a couple of South Korean notes from his wallet and stuck it into the bill. Connor reached for his own nearly empty wallet, but Nick stopped him, handing him another note for his bill. Connor accepted it, the shame bubbling in his stomach. <br/>“Go home, Connor. Seriously, I’ll pay for the flight ticket.” <br/>“What are you even saying?” Connor said, his voice rising in desperation. “I thought this meeting was going to be about mentoring me. Helping me succeed.” <br/>“I am  mentoring you.” Nick took out a card from his pocket and threw it on the table. Connor picked it up, only to see it was his official business card with a phone number to call or text. “This is the only advice I have,” Nick continued, “You should go home, grovel, graduate high school, and then	 if you can make it in the competitive leagues in the US, maybe you have a shot here. You can call me to book the flight.” <br/>Nick shook his head. “After that, I’ll see you when I’m twenty five.”  <br/>Connor sat at the noodle shop table, dumbfounded as he saw his last hope leave him. He couldn’t help but feel absolutely pathetic, although he hated it. Connor’s pride in his gameplay was all he had. The one thing he was good at, after being put down and bullied his whole life. He was always chosen last for every gym class activity, always had the lowest exam grades in the class, always got overlooked by every girl. In real life, Connor was a loser. But opening League made him someone else entirely. <br/>Someone brash and unafraid, cocky and sarcastic, always itching for a fight. <br/>And fight he would. <br/>Connor slammed his hands down on the table and stood up with a start. His chair scraped against the tile floors and the other patrons looked up, startled, but Connor barely noticed. <br/>He ran out of the restaurant, barreled through the door and down the street.  <br/>“Hey!” he yelled. “Nick!” <br/>His target turned around, a perplexed look etching over his face.  <br/>Connor gulped, swallowing his pride as he began to speak. “Look, I can’t go home. Not like this - as a failure. I can’t do that. My life at home isn’t great. My parents hate each other, everyone in town thinks I’m some kind of freak, and I’m sixteen and I... I..” Connor felt his face flush a dark crimson. “I can’t read. Not well, anyway. The letters just get all mixed up and everyone just tells me to try harder and I can’t. I was failing school my whole life, so my dad just expected me to run the shop after high school. But Nick, I swear, I don’t think I’ll be able to live another minute with myself if I go home to that town and know I have to spend the rest of my life behind those wooden doors.” Connor paused, taking a deep breath. “If I go home now, I know one thing. I’ll never be able to come back.” <br/>Nick grimaced. “Connor, it’s not that simple-” <br/>“Please. Please just give me a chance. I won’t let you down. I’ll put everything I have into it and I’ll listen to your every word. That’s a promise.” <br/>“Don’t make promises you won’t be able to keep,” Nick said. Then he sighed. “I’m assuming if I don’t	 say yes, you’re going to continue sleeping on the streets, eating one carb heavy meal a day, and running from the authorities?” <br/>“And honing my skills at the local PCBang,” Connor added, though that wasn’t entirely true. At the rate his cash flow was disappearing, PCBangs were far too expensive to keep using. <br/>“Right. How could I have missed that?” Nick groaned. “Alright, fine. I’ll coach you,” he said, finally. <br/>Connor gaped. “Really? Are you being serious?” <br/>“Unfortunately, yes. But,”	 Nick continued, entirely in the kind of parenting voice that signalled the beginnings of a catch, “I’m only doing it so you aren’t a sad undocumented homeless immigrant kid with a visa that’s probably expired. So the condition of my coaching is that you stay out of trouble. The last thing you need coming up during the finals match is the coke deal you did in 2016.” <br/>Connor nodded enthusiastically. “Right, right, of course. No cocaine. I hear you.” <br/>“So, you’re going to live with me.” <br/>	“Wait, what?”	 <br/>Nick shrugged, as if asking a random person you met online to move in with you an hour later was a completely normal thing to do. “What kind of coach would I be if I made my best player literally sleep on the benches?” <br/>“You’re okay with taking me in? And I don’t have to sleep under a really tiny bus station while it rains like hell tonight?” <br/>“If you want to succeed, you’re going to need a proper place to eat and sleep. And you’ll need enough time to spend half the day just going over strategy and practicing. That can’t happen if you get some shitty underpaid work that barely gets you enough money to sleep in a backwards-ass hostel in the shadiest part of the city. There is one thing though.” <br/>“Yeah?” <br/>Now it was Nick who looked uncomfortable. “Look, I don’t know how they feel about certain things in your small rural town, but it’s pretty... well, open, here in parts of the city.” <br/>“Oh,” Connor said, trying to understand where the other man was coming from. “I mean, yeah, of course they are! No one here would judge you at all for being who you are. Definitely not me.” <br/>Nick visibly relaxed slightly. “Right-” <br/>“I mean, yeah back home they do bully you a bit if you’re, like, really	 into gaming like I am, but here in Seoul it’s great because they love gaming a ton too! So your gaming habits are not a problem with me,” Connor finished with a smile. </p><p>There was a brief pause, then Nick spoke again, “I, uh, actually meant that I’m gay. I mean, I know it’s on the internet, but in case you didn’t know. Full disclosure, I guess.” <br/>Connor’s eyes widened. “Oh... oh. ” He really was bad at reading between the lines. He laughed nervously at the mix up. “That’s fine with me too. Honest. There’s no judgement from me at all.” <br/>Nick offered Connor a smile, then his hand to shake. Connor took it with a vigor he hadn’t had before. “Alright, then. Connor, welcome to the academy.”</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was nothing wrong with that boy. At least, that’s what Mr. Park, owner of the noodle shop at the corner of the Myeon-dong shopping market told himself. As the October rains began to fall once more, he wondered where the young man had wandered off to tonight. He had come in a little earlier than usual tonight, met with some other man, and headed out after barely finishing his meal. <br/>Do-jin frowned as he emptied the bowls into the trash can. He hated wasted food, especially when that food should have been eaten by a hungry, probably homeless boy.  <br/>His daughter had cautioned against doing anything rash with the boy, and he had cautioned her against going to the police, so now they were in a stalemate. And, unfortunately, when Eun-kyung was in a stalemate, it meant that she didn’t want to talk. And so they did their dishes together, in an uncomfortable, thick silence.  <br/>Finally, Eun-kyung sighed loudly, gathering up her plates and putting them in the cupboard. “Appa,” she said quietly. “I think I found something interesting.” <br/>Do-jin turned around, curious, to find his daughter holding up a picture of a woman. She was in a wheelchair, but still rather young. Her hair was a dark brown and her face held the structure of a hero in a portrait.. She stared at the camera with a piercing gaze, and there was no smile on her face.  <br/>“I found it under his table, after he’d packed up so quickly and left. I think it fell out of his wallet.” <br/>“Hmm.” Do-jin assessed the picture, pondered what the woman meant to the strange, foreign boy. Was she waiting for him back home? Did she know where he had gone? <br/>Did she wonder if he was ever coming back? </p><p>*** <br/>Nick’s apartment was huge for downtown Seoul - by which Connor realized, it was still entirely still smaller than anything in his hometown. He’d traded the open fields and large ranches for shoe boxes stacked on top of each other. Nick noticed his wandering gaze around the apartment and chuckled. “Not really what you expected?” <br/>Connor’s face flushed slightly. He didn’t want Nick to think that he was unappreciative of his open invitation to stay with him, or that he was judging his home. But still - “I thought Samsung would’ve paid you better,” he admitted. “I was kind of expecting a penthouse.” <br/>“Yeah, you and me both,” Nick sighed. “But it’s not so bad, really. Steady income stream, savings, retirement fund.” Connor snorted. <br/>“What?” Nick said, defensively, “Just because you’re a kid doesn’t mean this shit ain’t important to adults. You wanna end up back on the streets when you’re 50?” <br/>The words jolted Connor into the memories of the past week, sleeping in alleys and train stations next to old men and women who couldn’t afford their homes anymore, but whose children couldn’t take them in either. It had been sobering to see that, especially because his own parents had so eagerly taken in his grandparents when they had become sick. The Price family stuck together, and everyone was taken care of. But out there on the streets of South Korea, there was no more safety net. Except, Connor supposed, Nick de Cesare. <br/>Nick opened his fridge, grabbed a can of beer and a water bottle, tossing the latter object to Connor and sitting down on the couch. Connor turned the bottle over in his hand, unable to keep the look of annoyance off his face. Nick smirked. “Don’t look at me. You’re a child. And children don’t need alcohol.” <br/>“It’s legal in South Korea,” Connor retorted, moving to put the bottle back in the fridge. <br/>Nick met his gaze with a glare. <br/>“Actually, it’s not. You’re 16, dumbass. Still got two more years before you should even consider it.” <br/>Connor rolled his eyes. “Have you always been such a buzzkill?” <br/>Nick scoffed. “You wanna have a chance at a career here? Breaking the law on your first night at the academy isn’t the best move. I don’t know what hick town you come from in the states but the cops here don’t give two shits about you and your excuses. Especially because you clearly aren’t from around here. And trust me, deportation from South Korea is not fun.” <br/>Connor bit the inside of his cheek, cracking open the water bottle and taking a swig from it. “It’s not a fucking hick town.” He didn’t remember a lot about Nick’s life before the partnership and fame in South Korea, but Connor did recall that he’d lived in the northeast suburbs for most of his life. Connor’s dad had always despised people from the northeast - said they had a stick up their ass and an ego that somehow made them think they were better than the rest of the country.  <br/>Nick snapped his hand at Connor from the couch. “Dude, sit down.” He turned on the TV, which sputtered to life. It wasn’t a flat screen or even new enough to be made in the last few years. Nick caught his gaze and coughed. “Spent most of my paycheck on gaming rigs. Who even watches TV anyway these days, right?” <br/>Connor shook his head. “Hey, no judgement. Retirement fund, right?” <br/>Nick grinned. The TV displayed some late night soap opera, something Connor couldn’t understand, as the dialogue and subtitles were all in Korean. He waited for a second, expecting Nick to change the channel, but the drama stayed on. He took another swig from the bottle, trying to hold back a laugh. <br/>“What?” Nick said, “You’ve been out here in South Korea for months and you haven’t gotten hooked on one of these dramas yet? They’re fucking intense, dude. In the best way.” <br/>Connor looked at him, dumbfounded. “You’re serious right now?” <br/>“Hell yeah. You haven’t lived until you’ve binged one of these straight all night and then spent the next ten hours in League matches. Best 24 hours of my life.” <br/>Connor nodded slowly, taking this new piece of information about the famous player in. He realized that he would probably be learning a lot of new things about Nick now. And he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “Yeah, well,” he said after a moment, “I don’t have time for that shit anyway. If I’m staying up all night, it’s because I’m researching strategy or crushing someone in matches.” <br/>Nick studied him for a moment, the look on his face unreadable. “Man. I remember being your age. Everything had to be about the one thing I was obsessed with. I had no life except <br/>Starcraft. No time for anything or anyone else.” <br/>“I’ll have time when I get to where you are,” Connor said. “Until then, I’m not even sleeping unless I have 10 wins daily under my belt.” <br/>“Solid plan,” Nick said, though his voice sounded doubtful at best. “Speaking of, you look pretty beat. Have you even slept properly for the last few weeks?” <br/>Connor brushed his concerns off. “I’m fine. I could do another match right now. I could go all night.” <br/>“Right. Well, I’ll show you to your room anyway. Just so you can put your stuff away.” Nick led him to the back of the apartment and opened the door at the end of the hall. <br/>Connor assessed the room in front of him. It was smaller than his room back home had been, only one window facing another building, barely any moon light streamed in. Dust from the rafters above sprinkled down onto an old mattress with a light duvet thrown on top of it. At the edge of the room, an armoire stood perilously unstable, with one of it’s doors hanging off. <br/>Nick winced as he rushed to brush off the dust from the bed and straighten out the duvet. “Sorry, man. No one’s been in the spare room since a student lived here for a few months in 2014. It’s been empty and gathering dust for almost two years. <br/>Connor shook his head in slight disbelief. “Are you kidding?” <br/>“Look, I know it’s not ideal-” <br/>“It’s perfect.” Connor said, throwing his bag down on the floor and collapsing onto the mattress. The springs dug into his back as he sunk into it, but he couldn’t care less. Anything was more comfortable than spending another night in a bus station in the pouring rain.  <br/>Nick laughed. “You’re probably the only person I’ve ever seen so excited about an old mattress.” <br/>Connor wrapped himself in the soft duvet, closing his eyes momentarily. Laying on a bed had only reminded him how sleep deprived he had been for the past two weeks. He felt a slight jolt to the mattress as Nick kicked it lightly, and cracked open an eye. <br/>“You look like shit, dude,” Nick said, with no hint of humor. “I don’t think those nights in the train station did you any favors.” <br/>Connor shook his head, too tired to even speak. His eyes felt heavier every minute. Nick sighed, looking down at him. “Alright, so much for staying up all night, huh? <br/>Get some sleep, then. I’ll see you at 7:00 AM in the morning. Sharp.” <br/>Connor gave him a confused look. “Why 7:00? You got plans?’ <br/>Nick scoffed. “You’ve got plans, Connor. And you’re going to need to be well rested to handle the shit I’m about to put you through.” <br/>Connor rolled his eyes as Nick began walking out of the room. “What are you, a military drill instructor?” <br/>Nick laughed at that. “Oh, no. I’m way worse. Good night, Connor.” </p><p>*** </p><p>Connor hated a lot about living in a podunk town in the middle of nowhere, but the thing he hated the most about it was the fact that he had to drive half an hour from his family’s field out to a tiny building with no air conditioning just to do summer school in the middle of July. <br/>Math had never been his strongest subject - it was probably a genetic thing, as Price’s were famous for being terrible at making deals and keeping businesses afloat. The only thing his family built that ever lasted was the tiny farm supplies store at the edge of town his dad ran. The one he was supposed to work at this summer to save up money for getting the hell out of dodge. But after failing Algebra 2 for the second consecutive year, there was no other option but to suck it up and spend his day at summer school. <br/>As Connor walked into his school, he scrunched his nose at the sudden stench of sewage that hit him. They were doing maintenance on the piping systems - there was always some kind of maintenance around here - and the whole school was literally smelling like shit. It was a small schoolhouse, with even less resources. Connor was pretty sure his principal used to be his parents’ gym coach. There were only 500 students in the entire high school, most from the surrounding towns, and only 300 probably actually came to school on a good day. Most kids around here had two jobs, worked on the family farm, and maybe already a kid and a marriage. High school was less of an experience and more of a hoop to jump through. Groaning, he opened the door to his summer school classroom and set his stuff down near the back. The last thing he wanted was to be called on for anything. <br/>The clock ticked forward, and more students began filing in. Connor ducked his head, avoiding eye contact with most of them. He already had a target on his back for most of high school for being... well, himself. His town rewarded jocks and farmers, jackasses over people who just wanted to get a life and get the fuck out. The amount of times he’d been pushed into a locker just for saying he didn’t want to stay in town was astonishing. <br/>There was a tap on his shoulder, and he looked up to see a girl staring expectantly at him. The first thing Connor noticed about her were her eyes - they weren’t any unique color, just a dark brown, but her gaze was focused, like a laser that shot through you. It wasn’t harsh, really, but it made Connor feel... naked. Vulnerable.  <br/>She coughed, pointedly, and then Connor noticed the second thing about her - she was in a wheelchair. “This is the wheelchair seat,” she said, her voice surprisingly cheery for her dark punk-rock look.  <br/>“Oh,” Connor said awkwardly, still dumbfounded by the interaction. Then his senses came back to him, “Oh!” he exclaimed, hurriedly getting back up and grabbing his stuff. “I’m so sorry - I didn’t mean to -” <br/>“It’s fine!” The other girl said, laughing slightly at his embarrassment. “Seriously, it happens all the time. At least you weren’t an asshole and moved for me.” <br/>“Really?” Connor asked as he set his stuff down on the seat next to her. “There are people who actually don’t move for you?” <br/>The girl shrugged as she moved her wheelchair behind the desk, bringing out her books and setting them down in an organized manner. “Small town bullshit, I guess. Can’t wait to bounce.” <br/>Connor laughed joltingly, trying to hide his surprise. Everyone he’d ever met his whole life was happy with their life here - or, at the very least, too lazy to do anything to get out of it. <br/>“So,” he said, finally, “you here ‘cause you suck at math too? I failed my last class twice. <br/>Gunning for a third.” <br/>“I’m impressed,” she said, “I think you may set a new record if you keep going.” “I’ll try my best.” <br/>The door to the front of the classroom closed before Connor could say anything else, and the teacher, Mr. White, walked in. Connor groaned internally as he trained his eyes forward. He was the same teacher who’d failed him in every math class and held a special kind of contempt for Connor’s brand of slacking off - but who could blame him for deciding to spend his time learning strategies and practicing in matches instead of studying quadratic equations?  <br/>“I hope all you slackers decide to stick with at least one thing this summer.” Mr. White began to speak in his drawling, condescending tone. “This class will get you out of your first math credit necessary to graduate high school. If half of you even make it that far without getting pregnant or becoming alcoholics.” <br/>Connor coughed, hiding a laugh. As much as he hated the guy, he wasn’t wrong.  <br/>Mr. White continued. “Because dealing with all twenty of your dumbasses and your stupid mistakes every morning, I’ve asked for a teaching assistant to help out. Everyone, meet June Reyes.” <br/>And to Connor’s absolute surprise, Mr. White gestured to the back of the classroom, right at the desk that the girl in the wheelchair was sitting in. “She’s aced every math class at this school and has been taking community college classes online for the past year - and she was kind enough to help me out with this job,” he said. <br/>Connor stared at the girl - June - with wide eyes as she gave a timid hello to the class and Mr. White started his lecture. “Holy shit,” he whispered to her. <br/>Her cheeks flushed as she bit back a laugh. “Yeah, so I don’t suck at math,” she said. <br/>“Clearly not.” <br/>“Surprised?” <br/>Connor grinned. “A little bit. In a good way. So, June Reyes. Can you help me finally pass this class?” <br/>June cracked a smile. “I’ll make you work for it.” </p><p>*** </p><p>Connor woke up in a cold sweat. There was a flash of lightning followed by the ear splittingly loud crash of thunder, and he instinctively grabbed his jacket to try and cover up against the elements, forgetting for a moment that he wasn’t outside anymore. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes as he adjusted to the dim light of his new room. <br/>Connor felt a chill run up his spine as he recalled the dream he just had, although it was less of a dream and more of a twisted memory, something that haunted him no matter how far he’d run to get away from those feelings. It didn’t matter, anyway - what was in the past could not be changed, and he was halfway across the world now. There was literally no point in dwelling on his life back in the US, no reason he should continue caring about what happens in a tiny town that 99% of the world didn't know even existed. His life was in Korea now, and that was what really mattered. At least, that’s what Connor told himself as he hugged his jacket against his body tighter.  <br/>He checked his phone for the time - still only six in the morning, which left him a good hour to get ready for whatever crazy training Nick had in store for him today. Connor sat up on the mattress and fired up his laptop, stretching out his tired body. He pulled up his only youtube playlist - a compilation of pro matches that he consistently added to, focusing on mastering the strategies in each other until they were no longer challenges for him. Then, the match would be put in his mastered list. Connor sometimes scrolled through the mastered list just to see his progress, see how all the hard work had finally started paying off in at least one area. And that meant something. It meant everything. <br/>The main thing Connor always remembered about his dad, the thing that tinged all of his memories from even the youngest age, was his anger at people who were lazy. He yelled at the mailman for leaving the mail at the mailbox on the end of the road, instead of bringing it to each house’s porch like “back when he was little”. He’d yelled at Connor’s sister throughout all of high school when she came home with straight Bs and Cs, and yelled at her teachers for not doing more to fix it, even with the meager resources they had. <br/>And with Connor... well, sometimes Connor wondered if the reason for his birth was to everlastingly piss his father off until the end of time (which wouldn’t be too terrible of a life purpose, he figured). His most vivid memory of the old man was his silent drive home after a parent-teacher conference, where a young, well-meaning teacher had kindly told Connor’s dad that his seven year old son wasn’t reading at the level of the other kids and might do better being held back a year. <br/>There wasn’t any yelling this time. But there was a new kind of anger, a silent rage, one that lasted years. After the ride home, his father had asked Connor in an even tone why he was so useless he couldn’t read a book to make his family happy. Why he couldn’t do one thing right. Why he didn’t put an ounce of effort into anything. <br/>Connor still couldn’t read. Not well, anyway, nothing past the billboards on his local highway that he’d read and read and memorized over years, or the chats during League that mostly just consisted of insults and strategy acronyms. He couldn’t read, but at least he had this in his hand, he thought, as he scrolled through his mastered playlist, adding another one of the videos to the list.  <br/>Take that, Dad. And fuck you.  <br/>“Hey, you’re up early!”  <br/>Connor looked up from his laptop to see Nick standing at the doorway, his hair looking like it had been in a hurricane, wearing baggy sweatpants and a top that had a faded Starcraft logo on it. <br/>“Thunder woke me up,” Connor lied, not wanting to think about his dreams. <br/>“Yeah, I heard you yelling out a bit in your sleep,” Nick said. <br/>“Nice retro outfit,” Connor replied, dodging the inevitable next questions. “You tryna buy the Nintendo 64 too?” <br/>“Fuck, is Starcraft considered retro now? I’m getting old as shit.” Nick ran a hand through his hair, only serving to mess it up even more. Connor assumed they had gotten the same amount of sleep last night, but for some reason Nick still looked ragged. His expression was weary and his outfit was worn down, and he slumped against the door with a slouch that almost made it look like he had fallen asleep standing up. Connor had courted sleep deprivation in his time in South Korea, he knew how that looked, what it did to a person. But this was different. <br/>Nick looked sick, almost. <br/>Connor forced a smile, bringing his thoughts away from Nick’s wellbeing. “So, what are going to be up to today, Coach?” He cracked his fingers. “I’m ready to crush some dumbfucks in a match, get my win streak up, use some new pro strategies and really get in their heads.” <br/>Nick blinked blearily. “Yeah. No. First, you go get cleaned up so my roommate doesn’t think I brought the human version of a rained on stray dog into the apartment. Meet me in the kitchen when you don’t smell like a sewer.” <br/>As Nick left to go to the kitchen, Connor scowled at this description, but admitted to himself that it was probably true. He wrinkled his nose as he took in the stench of the wet mildew on his old jacket and peeled himself up off of the mattress to take his first real shower in weeks. After spending an unfortunate amount of time washing every acceptable part of his body in the public restroom, warm running water from an actual tap never felt so good. And actual body wash so his body didn’t smell like a Purell machine or a literal garbage dump? Connor was truly living a life of luxury now.  <br/>Nick had laid out a change of clothes for him, although they were ill-fitting on Connor But, strangely, they didn’t seem to be able to fit Nick either. Had he gone out and found clothes for Connor and just grossly misjudged his size? Either way, it was better than wearing the stench of a week of bus station naps. Connor shrugged the clothes on and exited the bathroom, finally clean and smelling fresh, and made his way over to the kitchen where Nick was.  <br/>“Hey, there was actually a person underneath all that gunk all along,” Nick said in a teasing voice. He stood over the stove, one hip balancing a mixing bowl and a dish towel thrown lazily over his shoulder, comically appearing like the cover of those 1950s domestic life magazines Connor’s grandmother used to have.  <br/>Connor laughed. “Who knew I was actually alive and not just a sewer rat you found in the streets.” <br/>“You’re the revenant,” another voice added. Connor turned, only to feel his heart stop when he saw legendary esports player and coach Jeong Jong-bin, better known as Max, casually standing at the dining room table stirring pancake batter. Connor’s eyes popped as he registered the scene in front of him, his new reality of standing in a kitchen with two of his long time idols.  <br/>Nick, probably suspecting Connor’s starstruck silence, spoke up. “Connor, this is Max, as I’m sure you probably already know. Max is my Korean roommate who’s also apparently better at English than I am.” He turned back to Max. “What the hell is a revenant?” <br/>Max shrugged. “I had to learn it along with so many more obscure English words for my <br/>Suneung a few years ago. Not that it mattered, I decided not to go to college anyway.” <br/>“Who needs it when you can live on the edge of financial disaster at any moment, right?” Nick said.  <br/>Connor looked between them. “Financial disaster?” <br/>Nick let out a scoff and Max shook his head. “Let me guess - you came to Korea because you wanted to become rich off of playing esports.” <br/>“League,” Connor specified. “I’m trying to make it big in League. I have a ton of experience already, I’ve been working since the game literally came out.” <br/>Max gave him a weak smile, but Connor could see even from across the room that it was practically a grimace. “You’re going to hit the age of twenty and suddenly the esports winnings don’t look as good as stable access to health insurance.” <br/>Nick sighed. “Fuck.” <br/>“What?” Connor asked. <br/>He shook his head quickly. “Nothing. Burnt the eggs.” <br/>There was a silence, where the only sound was the quick beeping of the smoke detector and the sizzling pan of eggs on the stove. It was weird - bordering on surreal, almost - to see both of them in such a strangely normal situation. The kitchen in front of him could have been the one Connor had in the states, the conversation one he had with his parents. To see it play out again, so far away both mentally and physically from his past... it made him uneasy. Max coughed. “Um, anyway. I’m sure Nick has a pretty busy day planned for you.” “Yeah, well if this rain ever lets up,” Nick replied. <br/>Connor shrugged. “That’s the beauty of esports right? Never have to leave the house.” <br/>Nick grinned at this response, almost mischievously, in a way that made Connor wonder what he had really planned. “You’ll see when we get started, today,” he told Connor, almost as if on cue. “And, in the meantime-” Nick scraped a new batch of unburnt eggs onto a plate, handing it over to Connor. “Bulk up.” <br/>Connor looked at him, confused. “I don’t get pancakes?” <br/>“Do serious athletes eat pancakes?” <br/>Connor rolled his eyes. “Dude, seriously?” <br/>“Does Michael Phelps eat pancakes?” <br/>“I don’t need to be in the best shape of my life to mash buttons and know my strategies! It’s just a fucking pancake.” Connor protested. <br/>“And that, my dear student, is where you are wrong,” Nick said with no effort to hide his smugness. “And why I said you needed to do everything I said, no questions asked, if you wanted to be part of this academy.” <br/>Connor sucked in a breath, looking hard at Nick. Then, he grabbed the plate. “Fine. Tell me where to start, Coach.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If Connor had known that choosing to be part of Nick’s back-alley League of Legends academy would land him right back outside in the rain, he might have chosen the bus station to sleep under again.  <br/>A spray of mist clouded his eyes as he blinked through the thick fog in front of him and tried to focus on Nick’s figure at the other end of the tennis court. For some reason, Nick’s idea of training focused less on actually sitting at a computer and cranking out matches and more on playing terrible forms of actual sports on rainy days. But Connor kept his mouth shut - partially because it made sense to, considering Nick was basically his only form of having a roof over his head. <br/>“Okay, Connor - can you hear me?” Nick yelled through the fog, somewhere from the other end of the court.  <br/>“Loud and clear. Although I have absolutely no clue where you are.” <br/>“Good. That’s the point. Okay, how good are you at tennis?” Nick asked. <br/>“Uh, the nearest tennis courts to me were like an hour and a half drive away.” Connor wasn’t even entirely certain half of his classmates even knew what tennis was or what it entailed as a sport. The only sports where he was from were tractor racing and doing meth. And both usually ended in a lower quality of life. <br/>“Holy shit, I forgot you were from Nowhere, North Dakota.” <br/>“Nebraska,” <br/>“Same thing?” <br/>“Not even close.” <br/>“Alright, the point is,” Nick continued, “You don’t have to be good at tennis to do this exercise - in fact being bad might make this exercise even more effective. Now, the ball cannon in front of you- <br/>“Ball cannon?” Connor repeated with a laugh <br/>“The spherical object ejector	 is going to release tennis balls at you every few seconds. Your job is to hit them across the court to me, while telling me exactly where the ball is headed... because I’m going to be blindfolded.  <br/>Connor blinked, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I know you told me not to question your authority on what makes a great League player. But I seriously am beginning to doubt your expertise.” <br/>Nick groaned. “I just need your to trust me on this. Don’t worry about your performance, just think of this as kind of like a diagnostic test. Just so we know where your skills are at right now.” <br/>“My... tennis skills?” <br/>“In a way. Connor, just humor an old man who still plays old people games like Starcraft and talks about his lack of a 401k retirement plan, would you?” <br/>Connor sighed loudly and agreed, stepping back and preparing himself for whatever assault the ball cannon was about to launch on him.  <br/>Before he had time to prepare fully, the cannon shot it’s first ball, and Connor reacted almost instinctively, ramming his racket into it and sending it flying over the net and onto Nick’s side of the court. As another one came rocketing towards him, Connor hit it hard, and then the next one as well. He felt a vigor in his arm that he didn’t know he had, a rage deep inside him that lit up with every smack, ever painful slam against his arms. He let out a yell as he hit the next ball over the net.  <br/>“Connor, I hear balls flying but I don’t know where the fuck they are!” Nick hollered. <br/>Connor barely registered the voice, he was so engrossed in his own emotions, his own outlet. <br/>This was what he had needed for so long, throughout all the hardships he went through in Korea, all the bullshit his parents had put him through for so long, all the teachers and other adults, the bullies and jocks, who had doubted his intelligence and worth for so long. Each ball represented another person who had torn Connor down. And now, this was his chance to fight back against it all. <br/>“Connor! You need to be telling me where to fucking hit! I can’t see the balls!” <br/>Connor growled as another ball shot through the cannon at him, grabbed his racket with a death grip, and swung hard. There was a crack as the ball connected with the racket, and then another. Followed by a yell. <br/>“Ow, holy fuck! Connor, what the fuck!” <br/>Connor’s eyes widened as he came out of his almost trance-like state. As the fog around him began to clear, literally and figuratively, he saw Nick’s figure on the ground, and heard the man’s groans of pain. <br/>“Oh shit,” he said, dropping the racket and running across the court. Great job, dude.	 Try	 to kill your mentor and the only person giving you a home on your first day. <br/>Nick groans spurred him into action again as he dropped down below the fog, searching for the other man. “Hey, I’m on my way!” <br/>“Finally, he actually communicates,” Nick responded hoarsely. <br/>When Connor found him, Nick was sprawled onto the court, his limbs hanging to his side and his face pointing upwards, his blindfold off his face and cradled around his neck. For an awful second, Connor thought he was dead. But then, Nick turned to face him, wincing as he started to sit up. <br/>“Seriously, what the hell was  that?” Nick asked, catching his breath. “You knocked the wind out of me.” <br/>Connor grimaced. “Yeah, sorry,” he offered. <br/>“Is this what you’re really good at then, knocking people over? First it was the street, now not even a few days later I almost got murdered by you at the tennis club,” Nick complained.  <br/>“I-” Connor paused, unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry, really. Please don’t send me back into the streets. I won’t do that again, I swear.” <br/>Nick shook his head, as if Connor was insane. “Are you kidding me? Dude, I need you to use that. Seriously. Whatever impulse came over you to try and kill these tennis balls - is that what you use when you play a match?” <br/>Connor blinked. Was Nick seriously trying to turn what had almost been his accidental manslaughter into a lesson. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, I don’t like losing.” <br/>Nick squinted, studying him for a second. “That’s not “I don’t like losing”, dude. That’s, like, “I have deep seated childhood trauma that I’m using this as an outlet for”. Believe me I’ve seen it before... a lot. Games are an escape for a lot of people. But yours is the only one that’s somehow effective. Seriously, the hell are you using?” <br/>Connor shrugged “Nothing. You told me not to do cocaine and I listened.” <br/>“No, not drugs. What trauma are you using?” <br/>Connor bit the inside of his cheek, hard. This conversation had taken a turn he hadn’t anticipated. It was one thing to drag him out in the middle of a stormy day to play some strange, twisted, torturous form of tennis, without explaining how the hell it even related to his training in League. And it was another to try and be Connor’s therapist. <br/>“Fuck off,” he said, finally, tossing his racket to the ground and walking away from Nick. <br/>“Where the fuck are you going?” his coach called out, standing up slowly, still in obvious pain. Connor tried not to notice. He still felt the guilt rise up in him as he looked back at Nick’s sorry state, the fear that came with it too. Fear there could be something inside him that he couldn’t control.  <br/>“I’m going back to the apartment,” he yelled back. “I’m done with this stupid exercise shit.” <br/>The walk back to Nick’s apartment was painfully slow - although Connor assumed it would be more so for Nick. The rains in South Korea weren’t torrential downpours anymore, just light blankets of fog. Connor hated this even more. It reminded him of the beginnings of squall season in Nebraska, where a thick mask of fog and dust clouded the horizon from the system of tornadoes in the distance.  <br/>He remembered being a little boy out in the fields one afternoon, running far, far away from his house. There had been another fight that morning, over breakfast, when his father had yelled at the local milkman for ‘conning’ him out of milk by adding water. He’d threatened to get the guns, grabbed two extra cartons of milk, and sat by the breakfast table, sulking angrily and looking out the window, muttering. Their mother had ushered Connor and his sister out into the fields right after that. She knew it would get worse. <br/>And when the misty morning dew and lazy afternoon fog gave way to a ten-tornado system by early evening, Connor truly knew what ‘worse’ meant.  <br/>There was a crack of thunder, bringing him back to the present. It had been more frequent recently, for Connor to get caught up in the past, stop seeing what was in front of him and see a sepia-toned version of his childhood that made him want to vomit. Even across the world from where he’d started, there was no escape for his mind. The memory of the tornadoes made him think about Nick. Connor had been so scared that day, all alone in the fields, no one coming for him, no way out of the storm. And now he’d just left his mentor, who he’d put into a world of pain, to fend for himself during a storm. The parallels were too much for Connor to have to think about. He sighed, turning back around, his conscience getting the better of him.  <br/>As he ran back to the tennis courts, he nearly bumped into Nick again, sheepishly apologizing as he did so. “Sorry. Bad habit,” he joked. <br/>Nick sighed heavily, looking away from him, up at the sky. “Well, I just realized that I didn’t bring an umbrella, so we’re about to get soaked.” <br/>“I’m used to it.” Connor said. Then, he had an idea. He grabbed the duffel bag that they had used to bring the tennis equipment out to the courts, and hoisted it up over their heads. His arms had begun to ache after his adrenaline rush on the courts earlier, and now he could feel his joints stretch uncomfortably as he held the bag over Nick and his heads. <br/>“That doesn’t look like it’s going to work,” Nick said, looking wearily at Connor straining to keep the bag up.  <br/>“It’s fine,” he said between laboured breaths. “Least I can, really. Don’t sweat it.” He offered Nick a smile, who rolled his eyes. <br/>“I’m not going to be the one sweating it.” <br/>As they continued uphill, back to the flat, Connor snuck a glance at Nick across from him. They were both too tired to say anything else to each other, so the walk back home was silent, but Connor could tell there was a lot left unsaid between them. He tried to swallow the anxieties that were building up in him. Connor hated silence, especially silent disapproval, anger. It reminded him of that ride back home from the parent teacher conference all those years ago. The many years that followed hadn’t made the silence any better. It always felt so annoying- incredibly premature and embarrassing - that Connor’s immediate thoughts about any situation always went back to Plainsboro. He’d come to South Korea for a reinvention, but all he’d found was more things that reminded him of his life for the last fifteen years. If he could hit his head against a wall and somehow get amnesia, Connor would heavily consider it. But that meant he would lose the only thing that also mattered to him - the one thing that wasn’t League, at least.  <br/>“You look worse than me,” Nick spoke up. Connor felt his gaze on him, and looked away.  <br/>“What do you mean?” he muttered. <br/>“You look like you’re in mental pain. And the heavy duffel bag carrying exercise isn’t making any of it any better.” <br/>“I’m stronger than I look,” Connor said. <br/>Nick didn’t respond, only sighing and shaking his head. After a minute of silence, he finally said. “You know, I haven’t seen my parents since last Christmas.” <br/>Connor looked up at him, confused at the sudden change in conversation topics. <br/>“What?” <br/>“I just miss them. I don’t get to see them very often because I live all the way out here. I was thinking of inviting them this time too, but my dad’s not doing so well. I might fly back to see them. Spend the money I don’t have,” Nick laughed bitterly. <br/>Connor looked away again, focusing on the pain in his shoulders, his straining body as he continued to carry the bag. “That’s great.” he replied, unsure of what else to say. <br/>“Great that my dad’s getting old?” <br/>He grimaced. “I - no. Shit, sorry. I mean. That sucks.” “But, great that I’m going to see them again?” Nick offered. <br/>Connor nodded.  <br/>“Are you planning on seeing yours again?” Nick asked, with a hint of hesitance.  <br/>Connor stopped walking, defensively bringing the bag back down, covering his body with it away from Nick, like it was a shield from this conversation. His shoulders felt like they were on fire now, and he winced as he moved them back.  <br/>“Why do you care?” Connor asked, trying to keep his tone flat, but anger still crept into his voice. “All that matters right now is making it big. That’s it. That’s all I fucking care about.” <br/>“I just mean. Whatever it is that brought you all the way to South Korea without telling anyone you know, running away from whatever life you had before, it probably wasn’t pretty. I get that now.” <br/>Connor sighed. “Look, I really just came to play League. I knew I had a shot here.” <br/>Nick shrugged, as if he was trying to look nonchalant about the conversation. “Alright,” he said, finally, though the undertones of his voice betrayed his doubt. Though Nick didn’t talk to him for the rest of the walk back, Connor knew that this had been far from the end of this conversation</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They were back on the tennis court. At least this time, it was sunny, and Connor could actually see five feet in front of his face. It was nine in the morning, and after popping some painkillers, Nick had dragged Connor back out to practice again. He was seemingly in top shape even after the trainwreck that had been their first - and what Connor expected to be their last - training session. Meanwhile, Connor’s arms still were sore and achy from carrying the duffel bag. Maybe all the time he’d spent skipping gym class to practice his League strategies in the locker room was finally catching up to him. <br/>“Okay. I need	 you to remember that you have put me through immense pain that I am still recovering slowly from.” Nick said. <br/>“Yep.” Connor replied. “How could I forget with you and Max reminded me every ten minutes?” he finished sarcastically, although he actually still felt bad about hurting his coach. After they had made their thousand mile trek back home in the rain yesterday, they had walked into the apartment both looking like they had just come home from a war. Max had been casually eating a bowl of noodles in the kitchen when he’d looked up to see them both sweaty, soaked, and groaning in agony. And he hadn’t been happy with either of them. Connor winced thinking about it. <br/>Nick continued. “What I mean to say, is don’t fucking hit the balls like they killed your whole family this time, got it? Alright, so the point	 of this exercise, or what it was at least supposed to be, is to get better at communicating under pressure. You’re a good player, <br/>Connor, but seriously, a terrible teammate.” <br/>Connor thought back to Jordan and his incessantly stupid rambling and penchant for abandoning others in the middle of matches. “I’ve seen and played with far worse.” <br/>Nick threw his hands up. “You want to compare yourself to the worst, then go back to the fucking iron league and play with a bunch of twelve year olds. You want to play with the best? Then realize where you suck and take my feedback.” Without waiting for a response, Nick turned on the ball cannon - a name Connor still couldn’t get over, much to Nick’s chagrin - and walked to the other side of the court. He faced Connor, pulling on his blindfold. <br/>“Okay. Remember if you miscommunicate where the ball is going and hit me again, I might not make it out this time. The South Korean police don’t take super kindly to manslaughter.” <br/>“Fully noted,” Connor replied dryly, gearing up to take his first swing.  <br/>A ball shot out at him, and he swung on reflex again, then looked up in panic to see where the ball was headed. “Uh, turn right! I mean, run  to the right.” <br/>Nick ran in the opposite direction - causing Connor to just now realize he’d forgotten to mirror his directions - and fully missed the ball. “Where the fuck is it?” <br/>“It-” Before he could respond, another ball shot out. “Wait, this one is headed left! I mean my left. Your right!” <br/>	“Why the fuck would you tell me your left	?” Nick shouted back, missing the other ball too. <br/>“Go right! Your right!” Connor replied as he swung another ball, only for the ball to completely disobey his orders and shoot all the way to the left of Nick. “Sorry, that one was weird!” <br/>“Connor, you need to hit the damn ball before you know where it’s going!” <br/>“I know, I’m fucking trying, alright!” Connor yelled, hitting another ball. “Center left! I mean, wait, right! My right - wait, no your right! Your right, and my left - oh here’s another one, it’s going to the left again! I mean, it’s going to your	 left, this time!” <br/>“In what world are there so many types of left and right?” Nick yelled barely dodging another ball to the stomach.  <br/>“Look, I don’t know what I’m doing!” Connor yelled back, hitting another ball without bothering to yell out it’s trajectory. His frustration was rising. “I can hit the balls but I can’t fucking control where they go! You think I’m some kind of tennis star or something?” <br/>“You don’t need to control where they go, you just need to be able to tell me where they are after the fact!” <br/>“How the fuck am I supposed to do that when there’s another ball coming at me every goddamn two seconds and you’re yelling at me from the other side of the court and there’s my left and your right and your left-” Before he could finish, Connor felt a jab to his gut as a ball shot out from the cannon without his notice and knocked him back a few steps. He stumbled and let out a groan of pain. “Fuck.” <br/>Nick lowered his racket, pulling up the blindfold to peek through. “Connor, you okay?” <br/>“I guess I got payback for yesterday.” Connor replied, groaning. Another ball flew out, this time narrowly missing his face. He walked to the side of the court, shutting it off and probably preventing a mass murder. What evil psychopath had designed this device, and was their only intention to kill people mercilessly by flying tennis ball death? “I think this cannon needs to be recalled.” <br/>“Well, it taught us something pretty important about your communication skills.” <br/>“Let me guess. They suck.” <br/>“So, so bad.” Nick replied. “You’re the same during a match - I didn’t even know half of what you were doing through the whole thing.” <br/>“We still won!” Connor said. “How does telling you matter if we won anyway.” <br/>“Your win was a fluke.” Nick put his hands up as Connor’s opened his mouth to retort. “Hear me out. I’m not saying it didn’t require talent, and I’m seriously not saying you didn’t go and do a great job under pressure defeating your	 enemy. But the rest of the game was just you trying to prove that you were the best, instead of working with the other players to optimize your performance.” <br/>	“But I was	 the best in that game.” <br/>Nick raised an eyebrow at this and Connor balked, hastily finishing his sentence. “I mean, the best after you. Like, way, way after you. Like in the gutter. After you.” He coughed, awkwardly offering a smile.  <br/>There was a beat, and then Nick continued. “Either way, dude. My point still stands. You get caught up in your own bubble and forget that League is a team	 game. And that’s true even if you’re in solo queue.” <br/>“But the pro teams never	 talk during matches. I mean, most people don’t when they have a team. They just all know what they’re doing, like, on instinct,” Connor countered. <br/>“That’s not instinct,” Nick replied. “It’s because they’ve worked so hard communicating through every practice match that they all know exactly what the other person’s going to be doing, how every other team member thinks. It’s not instinct, it’s more like mind reading. Right now, you can’t even articulate what you’re doing out loud to me. How do you expect to get to that level any time soon if you don’t start working on it now?” <br/>Connor groaned. Even though he didn’t want to admit it out loud, give Nick that satisfaction of Connor’s admission of not being the best at some aspects of League, he knew the other player was right. Not that Connor had any right, really, to question Nick on strategies when the other man had been playing games since Connor was still learning how to spell.  <br/>Communication had been something he’d always sucked at, though, especially when there was a lagging player. People who played League usually joked that the people at the top carried their casual beginner teammates while fighting to get to a higher rank. No one thought twice about yelling the worst things they could think of at other players who were bringing the rest of the team down, and most people below platinum rarely worried about communicating anything to their team past how much they sucked. And maybe that worked for dealing with all the low elo players who basically logged on once every week or two and just existed to ruin other people’s days. But Connor knew he needed to change strategies if he wanted to get any further than he was - if he wanted to try out for a team here, where spots were low but every sucker and his mother wanted a chance to be the next big name in esports. <br/>“Alright, alright, I get it,” Connor said, finally. “It wasn’t cool of me to just barrel through that last game when you were shot caller. I know it probably would get me kicked out pretty quickly if I pulled that shit on a team with better players.” <br/>Nick looked slightly thrown off. “Wow, you’re actually listening to me now? And 	admitting fault?” <br/>Connor rolled his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.” <br/>Before Nick could respond - probably with another snarky comment of his own - there was a shout from the other entrance to the court. Connor looked over to see another man yelling at them. Nick groaned, checking the time on his phone. “Fucking old people, man, they’re always like five minutes early but still want their court time. Alright, let’s bounce. I’ll treat you to lunch at that noodle shop for finally getting your head out of your ass and listening to me. And, you know, because you’re broke.” </p><p>*** <br/>Mr. Park had watched nearly every night to see if the American boy would come back. Back for the picture, back for noodles, back for a place to sleep - he didn’t know which one it would end up being, but he would offer any of them if it meant the kid would stay off the streets. <br/>He was in the back chopping vegetables for his next great noodle recipe. Eun-kyung often teased him for still trying to make new recipes even after so many years of running the shop, arguing that at his age, there was no point in trying to think critically. He had told her in no uncertain words to go shut up and go back to boiling the noodles. <br/>Mr. Park couldn’t help himself, anyway. Innovation was part of who he was, and something about the delicacies of putting together a new recipe, bringing all the harmonies of flavor and spice together in a gorgeous symphony of taste for his customers made it worth it to wake up in the morning. It was the one thing he’d loved so much about Mrs. Park too, the thing they’d bonded over so long ago when they’d first met in a different noodle shop.  <br/>He had stopped making new recipes for almost ten years after she died. He couldn’t even look at his menu, which had all been curated by his wife, couldn’t bear to open up the scrapbook of recipes she’d started making, only halfway done before the cancer had taken her. Mr. Park still cried when he opened that book up, looked at the picture he’d taken of her only a month before they’d gotten the diagnosis. It was the only good one they had taken that day, during their anniversary picnic. The sun rose behind her head like a halo, and her flowing white dress was tinted green from the grassy meadow below. In her arms, she held a wriggling toddler - Eun-kyung had never been patient for photos. Mr. Park sighed, thinking of that day. He knew how important a photograph like that could be.  <br/>“Hey, Dad!” Eun-kyung popped her head into the backroom, not bothering to come all the way inside. “That American kid is back. He’s with another one.” <br/>“Another one?” Mr. Park questioned. How many homeless kids was America sending this country? <br/>“Don’t worry, it’s just the other guy from a few nights ago. I think they’re family or something. But the kid looks good, Dad,” Eun-kyung said with a smile. “Better than he’s looked in a long while.” She walked in, eyeing the new cacophony of chopped vegetables next to the pile of udon noodles and tteokbokki pieces on the stove, and her smile turned to an expression of dismay. “Dad, are you trying to make some weird new recipes again?” Eun-kyung’s voice was tinged with suspicion and a bit of weariness.  <br/>Mr. Park wiped his hands against his apron, ignoring his daughter, as he often did these days, and walking outside to see the scene for himself. They were near the window, both in markedly better moods and better shape than they were the last time they were in the shop. Maybe that had to do with the rain finally letting up, no more nights under the bus stop getting soaked.  <br/>He pawed at his apron pockets, trying to find the photograph and pulling it out when he finally laid his fingers on it. Mr. Park looked at it again, still trying to puzzle the story of this young kid together. <br/>Eun-kyung burst out of the backroom, a tray stacked with multiple bowls of noodles in hand. Mr. Park intercepted her. “Give this to the boy when you get there,” he said, handing her the photo. <br/>Eun-kyung nodded, her eyes wide. “I’m dying to know the story. Is she the long lost love he left behind in America, waiting daily by the window hoping desperately for his return? The one who wonders if he’s still alive, wonders where he is, how he’s doing? Will they ever reunite, fall back in love, will she forgive him for his past, want him for her future?” her eyes were far away now, her expression holding a thousand yard stare.  <br/>Mr. Park coughed, unimpressed. “You need to stop watching all those dramas,” he said, finally, and turned to walk back into the storeroom. </p><p>*** <br/>Connor felt the tips of the photograph nestled in the wallet in his pocket. The waitress at the noodle shop had snuck it under the napkin with a wink and a smile, and Connor had felt his heart drop as he looked at it, only to be reminded of the dream he’d had a few days prior. After having the picture in his wallet for years, it had faded into the background of his daily life, a detail he didn’t even look at throughout most of the day. But now, seeing it again in such a <br/>public way made him feel like he’d just been hit by a ton of bricks. The guilt and convenient symbolism of abandoning that picture in the noodle shop not so long ago ate away at him. He tried to shake it off as he slung his bag over his shoulder, heading to the familiar computer cafe down the road. <br/>It was still early evening after a long afternoon spent at the noodle shop going over strategy and basically having Nick roast his playing style in so, so many ways. After thoroughly attacking any ounce of self confidence Connor had left in his gameplay, Nick had given him the rest of the day off. He still needed to recoup his still aching body and do some adulting errands that sounded extremely boring - something about going to an accounting firm - so Connor decided to use the time to practice what he’d learned today. It would be difficult to work on communication in-game, especially when so many newer players didn’t give a shit about doing the same, but Connor was determined to make it work and show Nick that he was serious about getting better. Connor vowed to keep his cool during a match this time, a task that seemed pretty feasible as long as he didn’t end up with another Jordan. <br/>There was a cafe at the front of the building, before you had checked in to the computer area. Connor stopped in line for some much needed caffeine, especially after the warm noodle lunch had nearly put him to sleep. He turned his phone on to watch some more matches online while he was waiting. <br/>“Nice choice in game,” a voice behind him said.  <br/>“Yeah, well it’s kind of the only good one,” Connor joked before looking up to see who was speaking to him. <br/>“Finally, someone who I agree with.” Connor swallowed thickly as he took in the sight of Han Wang Ho - Peanut, as he was referred to in online circles - in front of him. He was easily the best jungler in the world right now, someone who had come out of seemingly nowhere and was suddenly top of the game. He was young, too, only barely a year older than Connor was, and already making his name known in most every League forum. He wore a cap inside, probably the only reason other people in the cafe weren’t swarming him right now. Connor had stalked the other player online for an embarrassingly long amount of time... and now, he was right in front of him. Talking	 to him.  <br/>“Holy shit,” Connor said, unable to form any coherent sentence beyond this. The jungler laughed lightly at this.  <br/>“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” His English accent came with a gently lilt that made his voice almost musical as he spoke. Connor had really only seen him through his gameplay before this, and the differences in his demeanor were marked. “I’m Han.” <br/>“Connor.” Connor shook the other player’s hand, still reeling. “Dude, I love your jungler play. It’s just phenomenal. Your strategies are just things you’d never see anywhere	 else and holy shit that match in February was the best thing I’ve ever seen. It actually inspired me to come out here to Korea.”	 <br/>“Thank you. I’ve seen you in here a lot too, you always take a corner booth and leave ten minutes after your ending time. And you had one really shitty player a week ago - Jordan, right? He’s a really big ass.” At Connor’s stunned silence, Han laughed again. “Sorry. I’m very observant. It throws people off a lot.” <br/>“I guess that’s why your gameplay is so good,” Connor said, finally. <br/>Han smiled, adjusting his bag and hoisting up what, curiously, looked like a pet carrier in his arms. “That, yes, but mostly because I have this little one to keep me company the whole time.” <br/>Connor looked down at the carrier to see the eyes of a cat blinking back at him. She was a light grey, with darker stripes, and she was wrapped in a bright pink bunny costume. Connor laughed in surprise. “They let you bring your cat here?” <br/>“I do bring half of their business,” Han said matter-of-factly. “I don’t think they mind at this point. And they love Makta, don’t they, kitty?” <br/>“Hi, Makta. So glad to finally meet you. I’m Connor,” Connor said, grinning. <br/>As they reached the front of the line Han turned to him. “Let me get you too.” <br/>“Wait, really? It’s okay,” Connor protested, but Han didn’t pay him heed merely shrugging as he ordered. <br/>“Anyone who greets Makta is good in my eyes, he explained, hugging the carrier closer to his body. “Enjoy the coffee. I’ll see you around, yeah?” <br/>As the other player left, Makta in tow, Connor was left holding a cup of hot coffee and wondering when exactly his life got so weird.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mr. Park had always been scared of cats. He wasn't sure exactly when the fear started - perhaps it had been around the same time that his fear of rain had started - but it had lasted well into his adult life. Far longer than any childhood fear should have lasted, he thought. But still it persisted. The shop, though, had always allowed pets in the outer dining area, mainly at the insistence of Eun-kyung who had always long to have a pet of her own, but couldn't due to the limited space in the shop. Mr. Park had always felt guilty that he couldn't give her this one request, so he obliged on the pets. But the pets rule had brought the cat owners of Seoul to his doorstep, and with them, all their cats. </p><p> </p><p>Which is why he had chosen to hide in the backroom of the shop today. </p><p> </p><p>Eun-kyung ran around the front shop, gathering orders and relaying them to her father. She poked her head back into the room. "Hey, Dad, those kids are still here with the cat, so I can handle the rest of the table orders, but I need to take a break so can you please just get the bar for me?." </p><p> </p><p>Mr. Park sighed laboriously. "Okay. They're still outside, right?" </p><p> </p><p>"Yep. Don't worry, the cat won't get anywhere near you." Eun-kyung grinned as she said this. She had always found her dad's insistence that cats were scary, monstrous creatures as silly more than anything else. Much to Mr. Park's chagrin. </p><p> </p><p>As Mr. Park walked back into the main shop, he began serving the patrons at the bar. He looked out of the shop window to see the two boys Eun-kyung had mentioned. It was Connor from earlier, but he was sitting with a new person this time, someone who seemed to be from around the area. And, unfortunately for Mr. Park, this new companion also seemed to be the owner of a very large, angry-looking cat. </p><p> </p><p>The two boys sat across from each other, two bowls of finished noodles and a loudly meowing cat in between them. Not long after they had first met, Han had messaged Connor asking to meet up at the gaming cafe every week. They had become partners in a sense, pushing each other to spend another hour here or there to improve and being heavily critical of the others' gameplay. There was no animosity between them, though, only a mutual drive to get better. After a long day at the gaming cafe, it only felt right to end practice with Mr. Park's signature noodles. </p><p> </p><p>Connor leaned back into his seat as he soaked in the afternoon Seoul sun. There would only be a few more days of this type of weather left for the next few months. Christmas was fast approaching, only a week away, and snow peppered the sides of the streets. A few of the shops on the street had put up sparse decorations, a small recognition of the holidays, but it made Connor's heart ache a bit for the familiar feelings of the holidays at home. The Christmas he'd had with his family last year had been a disaster, and it pained him to think that it would probably be his last one ever. </p><p> </p><p>"I wish it wasn't so cold all winter," Han said, hugging his jacket tighter around him. "It makes Makta so tired all the time. He's such a warm weather cat." </p><p> </p><p>The cat in question lifted his head at the mention of the familiar name, licking his paws lazily and settling back down in the carrier. He was covered in a warm sweater as well, and Connor wondered if Han himself was the one who knitted all of the cat's custom clothes. It seemed that every day Makta turned up with a different outfit - the cat probably had a larger closet than Connor. </p><p> </p><p>"You're probably used to the cold, right? America is very cold, I hear." Han said, matter-of-factly. </p><p> </p><p>Connor shrugged, holding back a laugh. Being a foreigner, he'd heard basically everything under the sun about America in the last few months, and half of it was completely false. And, to be fair, he had known basically nothing important about South Korea - besides its' esports scene - before he'd impulsively bought a plane ticket and ran away. "Where I'm from, it gets this cold. I thought Korea would be warmer, though," he admitted, "so I didn't really bring my warmer winter jackets. Nick had to lend me his. After he called me an idiot." </p><p> </p><p>It seemed that the more Nick knew about Connor's series of bad decisions in his journey to South Korea, the more astonished he grew in the other boy's ability to stay alive for the amount of time he had. Sometimes he joked that Connor's skill and strategic thinking had all been funnelled into playing League, and now he had no common sense left for his daily life. </p><p> </p><p>Han laughed at this. "You are an idiot." he agreed, jokingly. "But only because you went for the flashy Azir play in your last battle and sunk the whole game. It hurt to see that. I have physical scars." </p><p> </p><p>"Hey!" Connor said, defensively. "It was one move! And you know who really	 sunk the team." It annoyed him just thinking about it - Jordan's smug, defensive attitude, his arrogance towards gaming, his utter lack of being good at literally anything. Connor had no idea how someone as simultaneously dimwitted and pretentious as Jordan could ever make it onto a League team without being immediately flamed to the point of leaving forever. But it was clear that no matter how many life-ending insults Connor or any other team member threw at him, Jordan only got more defensive and less competent. </p><p> </p><p>Han shook his head in disbelief. "That guy... I don't even know how you've been winning any matches when you've been dealing with that guy the whole time. I wanted to kill him." </p><p> </p><p>Connor snorted at the image of Han, the sweet, innocent guy who liked the lowest spice in his noodles and knitted his cat bright orange pumpkin sweaters throttling Jordan. Although it was true that Han was an entirely different person when he was playing League, in the heat of a battle. Han was focused and precise, no mercy on his side. Han rarely bothered with flashy plays or talking to other people. He was a sharpshooter, ready to take names and leave nothing behind - to do the job and then leave with grace. That was something about him Connor had grown to admire. </p><p> </p><p>Before Connor could reply, tell his new friend all about his numerous mind-numbing attempts to bring any semblance of order or common sense to Jordan's mind, he felt his phone vibrate. When he took it out, Connor bit back a groan. </p><p> </p><p>"Is it Nick?" Han guessed. </p><p> </p><p>"Yep," Connor said, typing back a quick response to his mentor. "He wants to see me home in a half hour, he's been asking where I've been all day and why I've been late to training." </p><p> </p><p>Han let out a low whistle, "Sounds like you got in trouble," he teased. </p><p> </p><p>	Connor rolled his eyes at this. He hated the idea that Nick was anything more than a coach, and Connor his begrudging student. He didn't want other people - especially recruiters for the big teams - to get the idea that Connor couldn't have gotten into their teams on his own, that the only reason he was any good was because Nick had taken pity on him. </p><p> </p><p>"He probably needs help with his own strategy. I'm sure he's desperate for me to come back." Connor shot back. </p><p> </p><p>Han rolled his eyes. "Yeah, of course. I'm sure the guy who's been in the gaming circuit in Korea since forever and is Masters in League definitely needs help from you." </p><p> </p><p>Connor grinned. "I gotta go, man. It's been nice catching up and watching you help your team annihilate enemies all morning. Bye, Makta!" </p><p> </p><p>Makta meowed loudly, grabbing at the carrier door as Connor waved goodbye, and started on his way back to Nick's apartment. The last few weeks had treated him well, and he was finally feeling like he was making progress towards the goal he had set out to achieve here in Korea. After what had been months of barely making it through every day, dealing with setback after setback, and even living on the streets for far longer than Connor ever wanted, there was light at the end of the tunnel. He had been good before, but with Nick's training and Han's consistent advice and help, now Connor had been performing better than he'd even been - even with Jordan consistently trying his hardest to bring them all down. </p><p> </p><p>As he weaved through the streets of Seoul, Connor checked his phone messages again. </p><p> </p><p>There were a bunch he hadn't read, all of them from Nick, holding a tone of extreme annoyance. Connor winced as he read through them, the guilt for abandoning his practice and lessons today suddenly hitting him again. He hadn't told Nick that he'd befriended Han, especially because he knew how competitive his mentor could be. The last thing he wanted was for Nick to think that Connor was ditching him to go hangout with another pro player. </p><p> </p><p>He drew near the apartment, and braced himself for the lecture he knew was probably in store for him. Connor hoped that, at the very least, Nick would be a little forgiving if he showed him his stats for today's practice. </p><p> </p><p>"Ah, the prodigal protege has returned," Max said with a sarcastic smile as Connor opened the door to the flat. He was still in his pajamas, which was uncharacteristic for the other man. Unlike Connor - and even Nick - Max was someone who subscribed to early morning rituals, and never wasted a minute. </p><p> </p><p>"Hey," Connor said sheepishly. "Uh, where's Nick? I know he's been looking for me. I told him I would be back by noon." </p><p> </p><p>"It's nearly two," Max replied. </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, I, uh, lost track of time." </p><p> </p><p>"How responsible of you," Nick said. He walked into the living room, looking less than happy as he stared at Connor. In contrast to Max, Nick was sharply dressed, wearing a button down shirt and dark black professional pants. </p><p> </p><p>"Where are you going?" Connor asked, confused. "You look like you work at a bank or something." </p><p> </p><p>"I have a meeting with a corporate sponsor. You know, the people who give me a paycheck so I can eat and live and, most importantly, feed you." </p><p> </p><p>Connor winced. "Hey, uh, sorry for taking off this morning. I meant to tell you, I swear. I really just wanted to get some extra practice and I lost track of time. But, hey-" Connor grabbed his laptop out of this backpack, opening it up. "I really, really improved my stats with all that teambuilding shit you forced me to do. I mean, whenever I don't have Jordan on a team at least, I actually work really well with other people. See - I even got a message from another high elo player - 'nice work on that combo, thanks for not leaving our jungler out for themselves. Probably made us win the match.'". Connor looked at Nick in disbelief. "Crazy, right? I mean, when do people ever actually compliment each other on League?' </p><p> </p><p>"When they aren't assholes who actually listen to what other people say and respect their time and skillset." Nick deadpanned. </p><p> </p><p>"Uh... right." </p><p> </p><p>After a brief moment of tension, Nick sighed. "Look, Connor. I'm happy that you're improving, and I'm happy you're at least paying attention during the lessons, enough so that it's changing your gameplay. But it's going to take more than a couple of weeks of solid stats and a compliment from another player to get into the major leagues out here." </p><p> </p><p>Before Connor could retort, Nick put up a hand to silence him. "Hear me out. How do you think I got in with Samsung when I was 18? How do you think I moved across the country and found housing and started supporting myself when no one I knew even understood what online gaming was, let alone	 Esports? How do you think I convinced a bunch of professional gamers in </p><p> </p><p>Korea to take a random foreign kid in?" </p><p> </p><p>Connor balked. "Look, I get that you worked hard for what you have and all that, but I'm working hard too. I'm playing, like, fifty matches a day, I barely sleep, and I basically do nothing but practice and strategy. I'm committed, Nick." </p><p> </p><p>Nick shook his head. "That's the problem. You think all you need to know to be successful is just the game." </p><p> </p><p>"Well, no shit," Connor said. "I don't think I'm gonna get anywhere with League if I don't actually sit down and play League." </p><p> </p><p>"You're missing the point. Right now, I could be practicing matches or figuring out strategy too, right? I could be spending the whole day playing by myself, trying to find ways to get even better. But I'm not." Nick gestured to the clothes he was wearing. "I'm going to a fucking meeting with a bunch of old men who probably don't even understand what a bot lane play is. And I'm doing it even though I really don't want to, because that's	 what being a professional is about. Gameplay skills are nice when all you're doing is sitting in a private room at the local computer cafe. But it takes way more than that to actually be a viable candidate for a team." </p><p> </p><p>"So, what are you saying?" </p><p> </p><p>"I'm saying that if I was a professional player in South Korea and some arrogant kid from Bumfuck, America came one hour late to our practice and pretended like he knew everything and couldn't even speak proper Korean..." Nick shrugged. "He wouldn't be getting far with my team." </p><p> </p><p>Connor sat back, finally stunned into silence. Although he hated to admit it, he knew Nick was right - as with many things. There was a part of him that had wanted to fight against the inevitable realization that, at the end of the day, even the best players didn't get chosen for teams because of other issues. And the thought of going back to the US, especially after getting so close to seeing his goal through made Connor's stomach turn. There was no way he would be coming back a failure just because he couldn't suck it up and listen to Nick for a change. </p><p> </p><p>"Alright, you're right, I get it." Connor said, finally. He squared his shoulders, meeting </p><p> </p><p>Nick's eyes with a gaze of hard determination. "I'm listening, coach. What do I need to do?" </p><p> </p><p>**** </p><p> </p><p>To Nick's credit, at least he didn't drag Connor back onto the tennis court. But somehow, this felt even worse. Connor grimaced as he looked up at the building in front of him - Seoul	 Korean Language Academy - and visions of his life in high school started coming back to him in a flash. The last thing he expected to have to do when he ran away from home and dropped out of high school was to go back to school. Nick had left him no choice in the matter, though, and after a moment of hesitation, Connor steeled his nerves and entered the building. </p><p> </p><p>"Annyeonghaseyo!" The woman at the front desk gave Connor a kind smile as she hopped out of her seat. "That means hello in Korean," she explained. </p><p> </p><p>Connor chuckled. "I know that much, at least." </p><p> </p><p>"So, you're here for the English-Korean language learning class, right?" The woman's accent was barely there as she spoke English, and it was extremely light. </p><p> </p><p>Connor wondered if she had spent time in the classes here too. </p><p> </p><p>"I guess I am," Connor replied. "I think I'm in... elementary Korean? I know basically nothing. I don't even know how I survived this long in Korea." </p><p> </p><p>The woman laughed. "Thankfully many of our students are bilingual here, and learn English from an early age. So you won't have any trouble here. But it's very important to learn Korean and become experienced in the language for anyone hoping to get into business here. Are you looking to work for a company?" </p><p> </p><p>"Uh, sort of. You could say that." </p><p> </p><p>As she led him back through the halls of the academy, Connor tore his gaze away from her and looked around the school building. It was odd how different everything was out here - something he still was getting used to after months living in South Korea. His school building in Nebraska had plumbing that was barely functional, walls that looked like they were on the verge of crumbling with one tiny push. Here, though, the academy's halls glistened like they were brand new. No expense had been spared with the varnished hardwood floors or the vaulted ceilings or the floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto the cityscape of Seoul. Connor wondered how much Nick had spent for this, and felt a pang of guilt for not taking his mentor's words seriously for so long. It was easy to take the help for granted when he didn't notice how much Nick had done for him. </p><p> </p><p>"You'll be in classroom B. The rest of the students are still coming in slowly, but try to find your conversation partner once they do come in! They'll be your partner for the rest of the course." </p><p> </p><p>Connor nodded as the woman retreated. He was still slightly numb from witnessing the extravagance of the school. He peeked inside the classroom window to see a couple of students already seated. Many of them appeared to be foreigners from America and Europe as well, and as Connor entered the room, he felt his cheeks heat up as his classmates' heads turned. </p><p> </p><p>This felt way too similar to high school. </p><p> </p><p>"Annyeonghaseyo," he blurted out without thinking, then immediately cringed at his poor delivery and pronunciation. Way to go, Connor, making yourself look like an	 idiot on the first day. </p><p> </p><p>There were a few giggles, but the teacher, a Korean man who looked to be in his early fifties, gave him a warm smile. "That was a very good job, young man," he said. "Never be afraid to speak up and try a new word. That's the most important part of language learning. I can tell you've already got that spirit. What's your name for the attendance?" </p><p> </p><p>"Connor Price." </p><p> </p><p>"Mannaseo 	banggawoyo, Connor." he said, offering no translation. "I'm Mr. Kim - or seosaengnim, you can call me." You can sit wherever you like, but make sure to find a partner for the class." The teacher turned to the rest of the students. "That goes for the rest of you as well." </p><p> </p><p>Connor shuffled quietly to the back of the room, setting his bag down and turning to find someone close to him. </p><p> </p><p>"Hello!" A voice behind him startled Connor. It was a young woman, probably just a few years older than him. Connor did a double take as he took her appearance in, trying not to look surprised. Her hair was a dark brown and her eyes matched it - deep and unblinking, looking eerily all too familiar to the girl he had met so many years ago in a summer school math class. In fact, this whole situation - being banished to a school program with people he didn't know, taken away from his gaming devices for more hours than he wished - reminded Connor uncomfortably of his life back in Nebraska. </p><p> </p><p>"Uh, hi. Or, I mean, Annyeonghaseyo?" </p><p> </p><p>The girl giggled, but it wasn't mean spirited. "I wish I was as good as you are at Korean already. I'm still learning, so I can barely say the simplest words." Her voice carried a heavy accent, but Connor couldn't really place it - perhaps it was something European? Either way, she definitely wasn't from America. </p><p> </p><p>"Well, I've been here a little while," Connor admitted. "But I can barely say a few words myself." He held out his hand to the girl. "I'm Connor." "Odalys," she replied. </p><p> </p><p>"Wow. Fancy name. Are you by any chance related to royalty?" </p><p> </p><p>She laughed at this. "I wish it was true! My parents are normal people though, no castles or kingdoms for me." </p><p> </p><p>"Where are you from? I'm assuming not South Korea?" </p><p> </p><p>"You would be correct." Odalys said. "I'm from Germany. And France, I suppose. </p><p> </p><p>And Switzerland." </p><p> </p><p>Connor blinked, and she cracked a smile at Connor's confusion. "The countries are very close together, so I commute between them often. I forget that America is so large," she said. "That is where you are from?" </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, I'm from Nebraska. It's really rural, like in the middle of America. Not anything cool like New York or Los Angeles." </p><p> </p><p>Odalys hummed. "No, I don't think I would like New York anyway. I love the south side of France, how rural and traditional it all is. Is that what Nebraska is like?" </p><p> </p><p>Connor thought back to his home town - one Shell gas station at the end of a long road, nothing but camo pants to see for miles, and nothing to do with your time but have babies and smoke crack cocaine. Or meth. Whatever was available, really. "Yeah, you could say that." </p><p> </p><p>"Why did you leave it for Korea?" Odalys asked. </p><p> </p><p>"I could ask you the same thing," Connor replied, not ready to reveal that aspect of his life just yet. People had strange ideas about Esports still. If Odalys was here for some kind of high-powered business opportunity, he wasn't really ready for her silent judgement at his life choices. "Leaving the vineyards of France for a language school in </p><p> </p><p>Seoul? Not super glamorous for someone with a name like yours." </p><p> </p><p>Odalys considered this. "Well, I'm actually trying to live a considerably more glamorous life here than I ever did in Germany." She hesitated before continuing, leaning in closer and lowering her voice. Connor quirked an eyebrow, waiting for her to speak. </p><p> </p><p>"Don't judge me," she began, biting her lip. "But I came here to become a Kpop idol." </p><p> </p><p>Connor couldn't help it. He snorted, biting back a smile as he looked away from Odalys. He felt terrible for it, so many people had given him the same reaction when he told them what he'd come over here for, but it was impossible to hide it. "KPop?"	 </p><p> </p><p>Odalys pouted. "I told you not to laugh!" </p><p> </p><p>Connor put his hands up. "You're right, you're right, I'm sorry. But I'm really surprised, you can't blame me. You came out all the way here hoping to get famous?" </p><p> </p><p>Odalys shrugged. "I had a band back in Germany, and I was in theater and choir since I've been in diapers. I already know English. Now I just need to know Korean too. </p><p> </p><p>It's not that unrealistic." </p><p> </p><p>"I guess so." </p><p> </p><p>"Anyway, what are you here for? Some kind of exchange program for university?" "Hell no," Connor grimaced at the idea of going to college. "I'm here because... </p><p> </p><p>well, I'm kind of trying to pursue a business opportunity," he finished vaguely. </p><p> </p><p>"Oooh, what kind of business? What industry are you in?" </p><p> </p><p>"Tech. Sort of." </p><p> </p><p>"What company?" </p><p> </p><p>Connor ran a hand through his hair, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks as he realized the hole he had dug himself into. "I... well it's really not..." he sighed, trailing off. "It's Esports. I'm trying to join a competitive team here in South Korea." </p><p> </p><p>Now it was Odalys' turn to judge. She let out a low whistle. "Wow. And I thought I was the one with goals that were too crazy to be reality." </p><p> </p><p>"I'm really good, I swear!" Connor said defensively. "I truly am, I mean, my mentor right now is one of the top coaches in the business. It's not like I just hopped on a plane without a plan." At this point, Connor didn't know how many lies he had dug himself into. </p><p> </p><p>Odalys rolled her eyes. "Relax, I'm not gonna say anything mean. I mean, the way I see it, you and I probably have the same chances of making it big." </p><p> </p><p>"And those would be?" </p><p> </p><p>Odalys smiled. "One hundred percent!" </p><p> </p><p>As the rest of the class settled in and class began, Connor and Odalys spent the rest of the hour desperately trying to grasp the new language, lapsing into laughs with every mistake. </p><p> </p><p>"Uh, okay," Connor cleared his throat, squinting at the page of Korean greeting sentences in front of him. "Nay-ee ileum-e-yoom Connor ya," he said, exaggerating each vowel and accepting how silly he probably sounded. </p><p> </p><p>"Mannaseo bangawoyo je ileum-eun Odalys-ieyo," Odalys said, sounding ten times more sophisticated and confident than Connor. </p><p> </p><p>He gaped, looking at her in awe. "You lied! You're way better at Korean than I am. I never would have partnered with you if you told me you're already great at it!" </p><p> </p><p>Odalys smiled sheepishly. "I didn't lie, I never actually formally studied Korean like I did with French or Italian! I just picked up the language through my hours and hours of watching KPop videos." </p><p> </p><p>Connor got the feeling that Odalys was a lot more skilled in a lot of things than she let on. Looking at her now, he could definitely see her as a pop star. She had the confidence and skill, but was still humble and approachable. It was like Nick had said earlier - Connor knew nothing about her skills in singing or dancing, but Odalys' personality and drive was easy to see, and that was enough for him to believe she could make it. Now it was up to him to exude the same kind of energy to get himself onto a team. </p><p> </p><p>Connor looked back at the page of phrases in front of him, determined to put in his highest effort this time. He steeled his nerves before trying again. "Uh, oneul eotteoseyo? Joh-eun nal-iya." </p><p> </p><p>"Very good, Connor!" Mr. Kim said as he walked past them. "You're taking great risks and I see it paying off. Keep going!" </p><p> </p><p>Connor felt a rush of sudden emotion at this. It was the first time in an extremely long time that a teacher had ever congratulated him on something and encouraged him to keep trying. Maybe the class wouldn't be so bad after all. </p><p> </p><p>After an hour, the class finally came to a close, and people began packing up to leave. Odalys grinned at him as they exited the classroom together. "You're not so bad at Korean yourself! At this rate, maybe we'll both be nailing those variety show interviews before too long." </p><p> </p><p>"Uh... variety show?" Connor asked, confused. </p><p> </p><p>Odalys shook her head. "You've been here so long and yet I feel as if you still live in Nebraska!" </p><p> </p><p>"Hey!" </p><p> </p><p>"Does that mentor of yours never let you out of the house? Blink twice if you need help." </p><p> </p><p>Connor rolled his eyes, grinning. "Nah, I've just been too busy with everything going on." He had been so focused on grinding through League, trying to find a way to support himself, and figuring out his mentorship with Nick, that he hadn't really ever gotten a chance to explore South Korea and its' culture. Well, nothing past eating Mr. </p><p> </p><p>Park's noodles, at least. </p><p> </p><p>"We need to get you out more." Odalys said, her tone of voice indicating that there would clearly be no arguing about this. She held her phone out. "Give me your number, my roommates are having a party this weekend, and then we're all going out." </p><p> </p><p>"I'm, uh, only sixteen." Connor confessed. "I don't think I can do anything illicit yet. Besides, I gotta keep my record clean for the teams and stuff." He figured that now probably wasn't a good idea to mention the fact that he was technically a runaway that law enforcement in America was likely looking for. </p><p> </p><p>"Connor, my friend," Odalys said, "who do you take me for? We're just going to karaoke and out for barbecue." She looked at him, tilting her head. "You look like you need friends." </p><p> </p><p>"Uh, thanks?" </p><p> </p><p>"I mean," Odalys continued, handing him the phone, clearly not taking no for an answer. "You look like you need to have some fun. Besides, you need 	to get into Korean culture! How else are you going to answer all those interview questions when you become rich and famous if you don't even know what people do here?" </p><p> </p><p>Connor sighed, obliging and typing in his number. He wasn't sure how Nick would take this - probably not well, considering he had such a strict schedule for Connor to follow with Korean classes and League practice and his insistence on continuing the weird teamwork tennis lessons. And, on top of that, there was all the time he still spent with Han. Maybe he could just use Nick's disapproval to get out of this.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I think it’s a great idea.” Nick said. <br/>	Connor blinked. “Uh - wait, excuse me? What	?” <br/>“It’s a great idea,” Nick repeated. “Going out, getting some time away from all the <br/>League stuff, learning some actual social skills.” <br/>“Hey!” Connor said. They were sitting at the table, talking over dinner. Max had made some sort of curry that Connor had never heard of before, but found far too delicious to pass up. Even if it meant that he had to endure an hour of talking to Nick about non-League things. That was the rule at dinner, made by Nick after Connor had spent an entire two hours trying to debate him about the best current bot laner and no one had actually eaten anything.  <br/>Nick shrugged. “Look, Korean customs and social etiquette is vastly different from probably anything you’re used to in Redneck country. If you want to make it big, get deals from major companies, work well in a team - which I fully believe you’re	 capable of, you need to actually take a minute to learn the culture. So yeah. This is a good thing.” <br/>Connor groaned, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. This definitely wasn’t the outcome he had been expecting, and judging by Nick’s slight smirk as he spoke, Connor was sure his mentor knew it as well. When Connor had agreed to be mentored by Nick (although, to be honest, it hadn’t been much of a choice), he thought he would be put in some kind of rigorous League training regimen. But so far, most of Nick’s expectations were entrepreneurial in nature, rather than focusing on the game itself. And Connor knew that he was right. After all, Nick was the one who had helped to pave the path for so many other aspiring Esports players to make it big in South Korea, actually make Esports a career and not just a hobby.  <br/>“Fine,” Connor replied after a moment, rolling his eyes pointedly at Nick. “I’ll go. But just for the record, you’re probably the only old person I know who encourages teenagers to party.” <br/>Nick scoffed. “I’m fucking twenty two, you dumbass.”  <br/>“Yeah,” Connor replied, grinning. “Hence, old person. You do taxes and wear business casual and shit.” <br/>Max snorted at this, much to Nick’s chagrin, who rolled his eyes at both of them. “Yeah, well, my taxes and business casual shit is keeping a roof over your head and food on the table.” <br/>“Now you really do sound like my dad.” <br/>“Yeah? Your dad could kick your ass in League of Legends too?” <br/>“No, he couldn’t. Which is why you two have so much in common,” Connor finished, smugly. <br/>Nick shook his head, apparently admitting defeat. “No amount of needling and annoying me is going to get you out of socializing like a normal teenager. Trust me, Connor, half of the professional circuit is just drama and shit. If you can’t deal with that, this isn’t the space to be in.” <br/>Max nodded in agreement. “When I was with CJ Entus it was all the same bullshit. Players yelling at each other, people fighting all the time, some people becoming friends and becoming angry at other people. It was a mess. It was part of the reason we were so weak last year.” <br/>“What happened?” Connor asked, suddenly curious. <br/>“Just a lot of egos,” Max said vaguely. “Rage quitting, throwing keyboards. <br/>People bringing the team down. People being toxic.” <br/>“I know the feeling,” Connor grumbled, his mind turning to annoying games where he’d have to deal with Jordan’s egomaniac behavior for half of the match.  <br/>“I mean, I guess it makes sense,” Max continued. “Half of these people are so good that they’ve never met anyone that’s come close to their level. Even in solo queue. So when they start failing and becoming the one who brings the team down - or even just dropping a few matches - they become super defensive.” <br/>Nick looked pointedly at Connor as Max spoke, and Connor shrunk down into his chair at the scrutiny. “What?” Connor asked, irritated. <br/>Nick tried to act nonchalant. “Nothing. Just. Reminded me of someone.” <br/>Connor rolled his eyes, getting up to put his plate away and leaving the dinner table. The whole last hour had felt too close to life at home with his parents, and all he was reminded of was his dad’s disappointment, his mother’s quiet sadness, his sister’s irritation. His family was a mess too, except there was no way to truly leave them, ever get rid of the stinging pain that they left. Every word Connor remembered his dad saying to him still left a mark, and there was nothing anyone could do to fix that. <br/>He collapsed on his bed, pulling out his phone. There was a text from Odalys. <br/>Hey, it’s the girl from your Korean class that’s going to be famous soon. Save this number before you’ll have to go through my agent to contact me ;) <br/>Connor laughed. He’d never met someone as overtly confident as Odalys, never met someone who’s energy radiated so loudly. It was almost awe-inspiring to see. The way she talked about her life in Europe, although she described it as ‘normal’, with her two academic parents and a life in the countryside, Connor could guess it was anything but that. She seemed so sure of herself, like she had it all figured out before she’d even landed here, but she was smart about it. Not like Connor, who’d taken the plunge without even thinking about it. <br/>Hey, it’s the guy who decided to fly to South Korea without a plan and now has to listen to his dumbass mentor forever. <br/>Aw, she replied, did he say you couldn’t come? I already told all my friends that	 some big shot Esports guy is making an appearance. Don’t bail on me now! <br/>Connor hesitated. He supposed that he could easily lie about what Nick said and make up a reason for not being able to go. He’d never been comfortable with hanging out with people he didn’t really know, let alone comfortable with going to a party with a bunch of girls in a place he wasn’t familiar with. <br/>He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Almost reflexively, Connor opened his wallet, taking out the picture of June he had. It was the one he’d taken of her the day he’d made up his mind to leave. It felt wrong to even live his new life here. The whole point of leaving had been to make it big, bring her out, make life better for the both of them. Not spending every moment working towards that felt like betrayal to June. As if he hadn’t already put her through enough by disappearing. <br/>But Nick was right. Connor needed to leave the PCBangs and late night League sessions and actually make an effort in other areas of his life if he ever wanted to have a real shot at the competitive teams. He recalled how many fights and issues broke out amongst players, all the online drama and backlash and media storms that came with the job. It wasn’t all just playing the game, winning the match. Half the battle, he realized, was just surviving the real world.  <br/>Steeling his nerves, Connor made up his mind and typed back a response to <br/>Odalys. Nah, count me there. What’s the address?	  <br/>Before he read her response, he turned off his phone and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. All Connor could think about was June, and it made his head hurt. It had been easier when all he had to do was live and breathe League, when his days only consisted of figuring out how much money he needed to get to the next morning. But Nick’s insistence on a work-life balance was probably more draining on him than just ignoring all his problems and grinding out matches. <br/>On the day he’d left, Connor threw out everything that reminded him of his old life, everything that connected him to Nebraska - including his phone. He didn’t tell anyone where he was headed, bought the ticket under a fake ID, and got the hell out of dodge. He didn’t know who was looking for him - if anyone even had	 sounded an alarm, but he figured it would be best to leave as many people out of it as possible. But the last text to June had been the hardest thing to write.  <br/>He’d bared his soul. Told her the truth about everything  - everything except the most important thing - and then smashed his phone before he could read her response. <br/>It would be too painful to see her response. <br/>There was a knock at his door, and Connor turned to it, expecting to see Nick. But instead, it was Max.  <br/>He looked slightly apologetic. “Sorry for bothering you,” he said, “But I left a couple of things in the closet in this room.” <br/>Connor shrugged. “Your apartment. Come in whenever you want.” <br/>Max shook his head. “No, you’re a guest, Connor. This is your place to stay too. <br/>And I’m glad you’re here.” <br/>Connor looked up, surprised. “Really? I’m pretty sure I’m probably just a big annoyance in your and Nick’s lives. I know I can be kind of a dick sometimes.” <br/>Max chuckled as he walked over to the closet and began shuffling through the dresser. “You’re a teenager. I think we were all kind of... what’s the word...” <br/>“Selfish? Disrespectful? Arrogant?”  <br/>“Figuring things out,” Max corrected.  <br/>Connor sighed, leaning back onto the bed. It let out a low groan as he put his weight on it. “I’m sorry I walked out on dinner. It was good, really good. Better than grits, almost as good as cheese frenchees. And I don’t say that lightly.” <br/>“It’s okay. Nick understands what it’s like. It wasn’t easy for him when he started out too, you know. And it really wasn’t easy for me. It’s a long, long road.” <br/>“Really?” Connor asked. “Because sometimes I feel like you guys have it all figured out. Other people do too. And all I know is my play style and which champions are the best and what to do to bring my enemies down. That’s it.” <br/>“That’s all still useful stuff,” Max said. “And it’s good that you know it. Now you just need to know more about everything else.” <br/>“Yeah, well, that’s kind of the hard part.” <br/>“Hmm.” Max closed the dresser, apparently having found what he came for. But he still stayed in the room. He paused for a moment, considering, before continuing to speak. “Look, don’t make me regret telling you this.” <br/>Connor sat up, his interest suddenly piqued. “Yeah?” <br/>“Nick wasn’t having a very good year before you came. There were days where it was hard for him to get out of bed. Where he could barely make it through meetings before collapsing out of exhaustion and burnout.” <br/>Connor remembered vaguely hearing about Nick’s struggles through the internet, remembered how people had attacked him mercilessly for bringing teams down and not living up to his full potential. He remembered how many people had called him weak and useless. And sometimes, he had believed it too. <br/>“Honestly, I think having you here has made it easier on him. Even if that sounds weird. I think helping you out gives him purpose again, especially after everything that has happened over the past year.” <br/>Connor smiled. “I’m really not making his life harder? I’m not super annoying?” <br/>“Well, I didn’t say that you didn’t annoy him every second. That’s still true.” Max smiled too. “But this is the best I’ve seen him in a long time. Honestly.” <br/>“Thanks for the talk, Max.” Connor looked at him again, squinting. There was nothing in his hands.  “Wait, what did you come here to get?” <br/>Max grinned sheepishly. “Well, uh. Nothing really. I actually just wanted to make sure you were okay.” <br/>“Oh.” <br/>“But, of course, I didn’t want to barge in and make you uncomfortable about it.” Connor nodded numbly. <br/>“Get some sleep, though. I know that Nick has those tennis sessions for you early in the morning.” <br/>As he closed the door, Connor smiled again, despite himself. There was a warm feeling in his chest. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time, something he’d almost forgotten existed. It was nice to remember it again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The PCBang was full again, bustling with life as students enjoyed their newfound freedom due to the winter vacation days. There were more people here that were around Connor’s age than there had been since he’d come to Korea. It was great to finally see other teenagers, not just bored twenty somethings and older middle aged people who had nothing better to do all day. <br/>“Damn, how are we even gonna get a spot today?” Connor said, narrowly dodging a group of excited younger teenagers who clamored to get an open spot near them. They crowded around one computer, all apparently excited to watch one person play. He must have been good. <br/>“You know I always have a way,” Han said nonchalantly,  <br/>“Yeah?” Connor said curiously. Han always seemed to know his way around the gaming spaces of South Korea way better than Connor - which made complete sense, considering he lived here. But it was a bit more than that. Han had a confidence and social sense that Connor knew he didn’t possess. It was as if Han had some kind of power to persuade others that evaded Connor. <br/>Han went up to the person at the front desk and spoke a few words to her in Korean, something that made the other person laugh and nod at him. Then he produced two keys to a private room, and Han walked back to Connor, a triumphant grin on his face. <br/>“I never know how you do that,” Connor said, slightly in awe. “Does the whole gaming world here just bow down to you because of how good you are?” <br/>Han chuckled. “No, I wish that was it! It’s just because I’ve been coming here for so long that the staff know me too well. I think once my mother came to find me because I hadn’t left for almost two days, and then they met my whole family.” He finished unabashedly. “I brought them all Hotteok after that, and they always reserve a room for me.” <br/>“That’s awesome,” Connor said.  <br/>“I also promised I would make sure all kids knew about their PCBang once I became famous,” Han said with a slight smile. “So now I must keep my promise and make it to the biggest teams!” <br/>“You’ll get there, man,” Connor said. And he meant it for Han. He’d rarely seen a <br/>player that matched his skillset so well. For most of his gameplay, Connor had really downplayed the role of the jungler because of how lame it seemed. No focus on 1 v 1 combat, no main role? What was the point of basically being a supporting character to your team’s success?  <br/>But when he saw Han play, Connor realized how wrong he’d been. The man wasn’t just a player - he was a well oiled machine. The competitive teams would definitely benefit with a jungler like Han. And now that he’d seen Han, Connor didn’t want anyone else in his team’s jungler role. It would be great if they could get into the same team together. <br/>They sat down in the private room, a duo with a computer for each of them, and began logging into the game. <br/>“You still playing with that asshole?” Han said. <br/>“Ugh, Jordan,” Connor griped, trying to get the awful taste of his name out of his mouth. He chugged some water from his bottle, running a wet hand through his hair to keep it back, out of his face. “If he shows up this time I swear I’m going to go on the dark web to find a hitman. At this point, can you even blame me for murder?” <br/>Han laughed at that. “Just wait until you meet the people in competitive circuits. They’re better at the game, but somehow so much worse in every other way.” <br/>“I find that hard to believe.” <br/>As the first match started up, Connor felt himself slip back into the zone he lived for. The excitement of starting out, picking his champion (always, always Azir), having the team chat fire up. The rush of adrenaline as the match kicked off, and enemies rushed towards him, ready to attack in gruesome and merciless ways. And the final, sweet taste of victory when nothing they could do was enough to make a difference after Connor’s decisive blows against their every move. There was a feeling of ultimate power, of justice being served, with each trade Connor made. <br/>Thankfully, there was no sign of Jordan in his team this time, much to Connor’s relief. There was nothing worse than feeling excited for a match and then realizing that the whole match would be taken over by Jordan’s - or any stupid player’s - utter mediocrity. He checked through his team’s roster, pleased to see some high elo players that he easily recognized from forums and streams. There was no way they would lose this match. <br/>Although there seemed to be no sign of issues, as the game began to progress, Connor soon realized a problem. Most of the other players had taken to their roles well, easily falling into support or main roles. But that botlaner... Connor was certain he was trying to make the rest of the team fail. God damn, did there have to be a Jordan in every match that Connor played? <br/>All he seemed to be doing was killing minions and farming gold... over and over again. There was progression to his play, just someone playing as if they were on autopilot. There was something to be said for gameplay this unoriginal, almost purposefully trying to get a rise out of other people. Connor grimaced. He knew it wasn’t in his best interest to say anything, to throw off the dynamic of the team. But after five more minutes of witnessing what he seriously wondered was shitty AI play, Connor finally snapped. <br/>Maybe stop fucking playing FarmVille for a minute botlane and actually contribute something useful?  He typed in the chat. <br/>Connor waited for a response as he resumed his gameplay, but none came, even as his other teammates continued spamming the chat. And, much to his chagrin, the bot laner continued farming, apparently not heeding any of Connor’s words. He groaned, silently wondering if this was actually just Jordan under a different screen name or something.  But, surprisingly, the bot laner was also high elo. Almost as high as Connor. <br/>“What the literal fuck,” Connor muttered. He squinted at his play, still unable to understand what the hell was going on. Had someone hijacked a high elo player’s account and had used it to make everyone miserable with their terrible game play skills? <br/>Asshole, stop bringing the rest of us down. Fucking do something. <br/>Again, there was no response, and no change in the other player’s behavior. Connor sighed, resigned to his fate. If this shithead wouldn’t change anything and just drag the team down, then it would just be up to Connor to do it all himself. He’d done 4 v 5 before anyway, after deciding to not deal with Jordan’s bullshit.  <br/>But before Connor could cement himself as the new leader of the team, there was a sudden change in the bot laner’s play. <br/>In absolute shock, Connor watched as the player began annihilating enemies, his tactics suddenly shifting to one of a masterful player. There was barely time to react for the next ten minutes of the game, as the other player carried on with such ease and skill that there was almost nothing left for Connor and the other players on the team to do. It was as if he had just decided to carry the team halfway through the match, and he was damn good at it too.  <br/>As the match ended in a victory, Connor sat back, still in shock from what he had witnessed. The chat exploded between the other teammates, either congratulating the other player or yelling at Connor for being such an asshole for the first half. He leaned forward in his chair. <br/>Lmao koebalt must be shitting his pants right now after all the shit he spewed about you.  <br/>That fuckwit doesn’t even know what he’s talking about anyway. <br/>Connor gritted his teeth, feeling irritated at being upstaged, but even more annoyed at the fact that the other player seemed so unfazed, as if he did this all the time. It was like this was no big deal for him.  <br/>Woulda been nice if you started out strong instead of being shit halfway through and making me yell at you. Connor replied. Immediately, the other team members started shitting on him, making him roll his eyes in frustration.  <br/>Well, I’m only twelve so I’m still learning the ropes. The other player said. Connor did a double take as he stared at the message again. What the hell? He had to be lying. <br/>The chat continued to erupt in incredulous reactions. <br/>Holy shit, twelve? I feel like a fucking loser now. <br/>Bro don’t forget us when you become famous and shit. <br/>Rest of you assholes sitting in mom’s basement eating doritos while these <br/>kids are kicking your ass.  <br/>Fuck me, this is suicide fuel. <br/>Connor quickly opened up op.gg and typed in the player’s name. Acilion. 	He didn’t want to believe it was true. But as he looked through the stats, all he could feel was a sinking feeling. It all was true. Even as he searched Acilion’s names in forums, there were messages talking about him as a new up and coming player, one of the youngest and most promising ones. In so many ways, he easily had Connor beat. And he proved it through the last match. <br/>The chat pinged with another notification from Acilion. Connor opened it up. <br/>Hey, good game koebalt. You have some serious skills too. Hope to play again with you in the future. <br/>With fury rising from deep within him, Connor clicked off the match screen. </p><p>**** </p><p>How is the hardcore gaming going? <br/>It was another message from Odalys, but Connor felt in no mood to answer her honestly right now. Even though they’d won the last match, it felt weird to be so in the wrong about another player.  <br/>It’s going. He replied vaguely.  <br/>Sounds promising. So I’ll definitely see you doing interviews with Peanut and Faker soon, yeah? <br/>Connor did a double take as he looked at the message on his phone. Wait, you	 know who they are? <br/>I do my research. Odalys replied coyly. Now you definitely owe me an	 appearance at the party. <br/>I’ll be there. <br/>Can’t wait! I’ll show you all the kpop moves I learned~  <br/>Despite himself, Connor laughed as he put his phone away. Odalys had basically been the only bright spot in a long day of what felt like being shit on left and right. Especially after he’d voiced his annoyance about Acilion to Han, who had apparently known about this kid - Tony	’s - existence from the forums longer than Connor had. How the fuck had a random American kid in the seventh grade managed to catch the attention of the best jungler in the world right now? It didn’t make any fucking sense, and it made Connor that much more angry at the way that match had turned out. <br/>“Good game, my ass,” He grumbled loudly as he walked back home, ignoring the dirty looks he got from the old Korean grandmas he had just passed on the street. Sometimes it felt like no one here really understood what he was going through. Nick was fine, but it always felt like he had something underneath that he wasn’t showing, something he wasn’t letting through. And Han was just - as much as Connor hated to admit it - so good that it made Connor wonder how he could ever compete. Out of everyone, Max sometimes felt like the only person Connor could talk to. <br/>He opened the door to the flat, hoping to see Max in the kitchen like always, probably cooking something up that would be really delicious. But instead, the kitchen was empty. As Connor took a look around, he realized the whole apartment was actually empty. Which was... odd. Usually there was at least one of them somewhere around. Connor checked his texts to see if there was any notice of them going somewhere, but his notifications remained barren as ever, with only another short text from Han asking when he wanted to meet up again. <br/>	Connor texted Nick. Hey, you guys around? Did you die?	 <br/>Slightly confused, he went to his room to lay down. A few moments passed, and then there was a reply. Hey, Connor, this is Max. We won’t be back for a while. Just	 hang tight. There’s some leftover ramen in the pantry if you need to eat. But don’t wait up for us. <br/>That was even weirder. Why was Max replying from Nick’s phone? Connor debated asking another question, but part of him sensed that this wasn’t something he should pry into right now. He chewed on his lip as he stared at the message, unable to decipher what was really going on. <br/>He decided against heeding Max’s words and instead just hopped in the bathroom for a shower and turned into bed early. There would be time for food in the morning, Connor reasoned. Besides, it had been a shitty enough day already without staying up late to eat cardboard-tasting instant ramen noodles and wondering where the hell his mentor had ended up. <br/>Connor had a fitful sleep, drifting in and out of deep sleep as his dreams took hold of his sanity and ripped it to shreds. There was no mercy in sleep for him, and nothing he could do to run away from his sins and mistakes, his trauma and past. It was open season here. <br/>He found himself back in the halls of his school. Or, what almost resembled the halls of his school. The walls were distorted, almost mutated into an ugly monster of a being, and the hallway seemed to stretch on until the end of time. Past him, nurses in old World War Two style uniforms rushed from room to room, pushing aching soldiers in wheelchairs and carrying bandages and first aid kits. The rooms weren't classrooms anymore, they were hospital rooms. Or, more accurately, infirmaries stuffed with the sick and ailing. The entrance to his school had suddenly become the entrance to an old hospital.  <br/>Connor felt himself walk up to the front desk, where a kindly old woman looked at him with soft pity in her eyes.  <br/>“Who are you here to see?” she asked with a sad smile. <br/>“Uh, I’m- I don’t think-” Connor fumbled. <br/>“That’s okay, sweetheart,” she continued, almost as if she hadn’t heard him. “Just tell me your name.” <br/>“Connor-” he tried to continue, but he couldn’t recall his last name. Something - something with a...  <br/>“Price. I see you here,” she said. “Of course, we almost lost that record. You haven’t visited in a very long time, young man.” “I... don’t remember,” Connor replied.  <br/>“She’s been waiting forever. Always looks out the window knowing you’d come back someday.” <br/>“I’m sorry, what?” Connor asked. <br/>“Follow me.” The woman got up, and suddenly she was towering over Connor. He felt smaller than he ever had. A feeling of dread crept up into his throat, clasping on and trying to pull him back from his fate. But even though he didn’t want to follow her, a force pushed him forward, and he numbly walked behind the woman through the halls of the hospital. <br/>They reached a room towards the end of the hall. The woman turned around, facing Connor with another sad smile. “She’s ready for you. She’s been ready for a very long time.” <br/>“Who?” he asked, but even as he asked the question, Connor felt the answer crawling up his spine. <br/>June. <br/>She sat in her wheelchair at the window, her head facing out towards the sun. It was strange. June never liked the sun, never liked summer. Despite her name. <br/>Connor wanted to reach out, speak her name, but it was as if something was clawing at his throat, making it impossible to say anything.  <br/>She turned towards him, and he felt a sharp pain in his heart all of a sudden, like something had stabbed him in the chest. But before he could take her in, look at her face, June smiled at him, then vanished into dust. There was nothing left of her except the wheelchair.  <br/>“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You were just too late,” he head the woman say behind him.  <br/>Connor fell to his knees as the hospital walls began to melt into each other, as the wheelchair began to roll towards him, as the woman continued to speak loudly into his ears. And then the world went black.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor awoke the sound of voices - Nick and Max were back. They were trying to be hushed, but not doing a good job about it. He got out of bed and started creeping towards the door. A lingering feeling of discomfort enveloped him as Connor recalled the dream he'd just awoken from, but he shook it off. The last thing he needed right now was a reminder of everything he'd fucked up. <br/>He leaned in close to the door, pushing his ear up against the crack. <br/>"-don't think it's worth it." <br/>"What are you talking about? Of course it's worth it." It was Nick's voice, lower than usual, almost unsure of himself even though his words seemed unbending. <br/>"You heard what they said! Stress makes it worse, you know that. You can't handle this," Max replied. <br/>"Don't tell me what I can handle." <br/>"For fuck's sake, I see what you can handle. And whenever you take on things you can't handle, you break down for weeks and then I'm the one taking care of you." <br/>"Well I never forced you into this," Nick said, his voice rising. "If it's so hard on you then I'm not fucking asking you to stay." <br/>"I didn't-" Max groaned. "Don't fucking do this. I'm not saying that. You know I'm not saying that." <br/>"Then what the fuck are you saying? Because right now it feels like everything I do is just a mistake. Nothing I can ever do is right, and every time it feels like I'm getting better, my body just decides to deal me another shit card. And it's so much better with you on my back all the time telling me how little I'm allowed to do." <br/>Connor heard a loud sigh, then footsteps down the hall, towards his room. There was a moment of silence, then they marched back. <br/>"Oh my god, what are you doing," Nick said. <br/>"I'm not talking about this tonight, so I'm taking the couch." <br/>"Fine, whatever. Do what you want." Nick scoffed. <br/>"Good night," Max said, with finality. <br/>Nick didn't respond, just walked back to the room and shut the door loudly. <br/>Connor took a deep breath in as he walked away from the door, keeping at quiet as he could with every step back to his bed. He really didn't want Max and Nick to think he had been spying on them. But the conversation worried Connor. What had they been talking so hurriedly about - and why did it seem like Nick wasn't doing okay? <br/>Whatever it was, Connor knew there was probably nothing he could ask about it that would make Nick answer honestly. As he settled back into his bed, peace escaped him. He could barely close his eyes without visions of the horrific nightmare he'd just endured plaguing his thoughts and visions. And when Connor opened his eyes, they would draw back to the closed door of his room, where Nick and Max's argument still lingered heavily in the air. He felt depleted of energy and wired with anxiety all at once, a toxic alloy that only led to a feeling of groggy restlessness. <br/>Connor groaned, deciding to just give up on sleep for the night. Clearly, whatever moral conscience still resided in him wasn't letting him get any rest. The moment he finally thought he was getting used to South Korea, to his new life far away from home, the thoughts about June punctuated his existence to remind Connor of the ghosts that still haunted his past. <br/>What did it take to pursue this quest? To be the underdog that rose above his station, the one they never saw coming? All the stories Connor was told about the unassuming hero always focused on all the glory and fame that came after the fact. They never talked about the sacrifices made to get there. And maybe that was for a good reason. If everyone knew that getting to this point meant hurting the people who loved you, no one would ever take this path. <br/>Either way, Connor knew it was too late for him now. He careened towards his fate with abandon, a reckless defiance against everything that held him back. Even if some of them had truly mattered to him. He had chosen his path long ago. Now all he could do was make the best of it. <br/>Shaking himself out of the spell of exhaustion, Connor opened up his laptop and typed in the name Acillion into op.gg again. The awe and anger he'd felt from the earlier match towards the younger player now was channeled into a sort of obsession about his stats. Connor wanted to know everything - how he was so young and yet so promising, what his play style was, what his stats were like, what other players were saying about him. <br/>There was one thing Nick had always stressed to Connor in the first few mentoring sessions - know your fellow players. Connor had always done this for his enemies, thoroughly researching prospective players he would be up against to think through strategies that would be effective against them. But his fellow teammates - that was a new thing to think about altogether. <br/>The forums didn't hold back with their praise and awe for Acillion, for how young he was with so many achievements under his belt. For someone who was still in middle school - who was practically still a child - the kid's brand had more traction than Connor's ever had. <br/>Part of Connor still wanted to get angry. It wasn't fair, with everything he'd sacrificed, everything he'd worked towards, that some kid who probably still got driven to school every morning by his parents would be so much better than him, get so much more recognition. But Nick's words came back to him again - don't get mad. Figure out what they're doing that you're not. <br/>And so Connor took the plunge. </p><p>*** <br/>"Connor? Hello? Are you awake, dude? Connor!" <br/>Connor blearily widened his eyes at the snap of Nick's fingers, turning to face his mentor while trying his best to not look like he'd just returned from the depths of hell. "Uh, yeah?" <br/>"I asked if you wanted eggs," Max said from the kitchen, an amused look on his face. "Three times." <br/>"Oh," Connor replied, embarrassed. "Sorry, uh, yeah. Eggs are fine. I'm fine with... lots of eggs," he trailed off, fighting incessantly to keep his heavy eyelids from shutting. <br/>"Uh huh." Nick looked at Connor for a moment, his expression appearing slightly worried. "Did you, um, not get too much sleep last night?" <br/>"Was awake most of it." <br/>Max turned to look at him, his expression unreadable. "Did you hear us come in?" <br/>Connor blinked, considering this question for a moment while his memories of the previous, sleepless night came back to him slowly. "Oh," he said, finally, "Oh, no. I didn't hear you guys. I didn't even know when you made it back. I woke up around 3 AM or something from a nightmare." <br/>Nick visibly relaxed at this. "Oh, good." <br/>"Good that I had a nightmare?" Connor replied. <br/>"What - oh, no, of course not. I'm sorry to hear that. I just meant-" Nick turned red. "I'm just glad that we didn't disturb you." <br/>"You're fine. Just stayed up all night researching my fellow players like you told me to." <br/>Nick rolled his eyes. "I didn't mean you should sacrifice your sleep for it." <br/>"What do you know about Acillion?" Connor countered. <br/>Nick stopped eating, looking at him suddenly. "Acillion?" he said. He drew out the name as if he had never heard it before, trying to play his initial surprise off as nonchalance. But Connor didn't believe it. There was no way Nick wasn't at least tangentially aware of the burgeoning talent that was all over the world. And Acillion, from what he'd read, had enough fans and awe-struck observers that he wouldn't go unnoticed by the coach. <br/>But still, Nick continued as if he didn't know what Connor was talking about. "I may have heard his name on the forums once or twice. Been kind of preoccupied with teaching you recently though so if he's a newer player I wouldn't have heard of him." <br/>"Right," Connor said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The biggest coach in League of Legends Esports players doesn't know the big protege." <br/>"I thought you were the protege?" Nick asked, his tone teasing. <br/>"Well, clearly not," Connor admitted, even though he hated to. "Some 12 year old kid is kicking my ass and taking names, and everyone is noticing. Just watch him get recruited before my old ass." <br/>"Fuck, if you're old, then I'm literally ancient," Nick said, then rolled his eyes. "Stop comparing yourself to random kids online. You sound like a whiny neckbeard. I bet you also were an ass to him in the match, weren't you?" <br/>"Not my fault that he decided to be a farmbot for half the fucking game," Connor seethed, thinking about the utter monotony and unoriginality of his play. How someone decided to go from a zombie to a literal killing machine was beyond him. "But I researched him for hours last night and I still can't figure shit out about him. How the hell he got started so early. Playing in diapers or some shit." <br/>Max chuckled. "You'd be surprised. People start far earlier these days. Kids with rich parents who can buy them the latest systems and gaming rigs and all the microtransactions for all these games. I don't think anyone goes outside anymore." <br/>"You sound like a grandpa," Connor informed Max, who rolled his eyes. <br/>"I might be, but I'm right. I don't think it's a good thing that all these kids are so young getting into all this. This industry is rough. It can really take a toll on you." <br/>This time, it was Nick who groaned, running a hand through his hair as he looked pointedly away from Max. "A lot of them can handle it." <br/>"A lot of them can't," Max said, coolly. <br/>"I could," Nick said. "And Connor is doing just fine. Not everyone is always so worried all the time." <br/>Max slammed his knife down onto the chopping board with such force that it made a resounding noise. Connor jumped in instinct. Max looked at Nick with an unreadable expression, one that wasn't exactly angry, but wasn't sad either. Almost disappointed. It reminded Connor eerily of his mother and how she had dealt with his father's long term issues. Knowing that whatever Max and Nick were dealing with could spiral out of control, make their relationship end up like the trainwreck that was his parents' marriage - it left a huge pit in his stomach. <br/>Connor coughed awkwardly. "Well, I, um, was gonna go to the PC center today to crank some hours out. I'll catch you guys on the flip side," he finished lamely. <br/>Nick gave him a tight smile, while Max sighed, turning back to chopping vegetables without saying a word. <br/>The air in the apartment suddenly felt colder. </p><p>**** </p><p>"Finally actually winning some matches, huh?" <br/>If it had been anyone else, Connor might have been annoyed, but Han gave him a teasing smile and he rolled his eyes as his match ended and he exited back into the lobby. It was another long afternoon in the PC Center, and Han had been happy to join Connor as soon as he'd texted him that he was spending the day there. <br/>It felt weird to be back here for so many hours after spending more of his time at home with Max and Nick, but he realized that, for whatever reason, he probably wasn't exactly welcome back there right now. Connor had tried to piece together what had happened this morning with the tense argument last night, but he still wasn't sure what they were going through. Clearly though, it was taking a toll on their relationship. <br/>"Fuck off," Connor rolled his eyes, but he said this with a grin. "You don't get to make fun of me when you lost your last match." <br/>"One out of thirty!" Han countered. "When have you ever had stats that good?" <br/>Connor sighed. He was right. Though his stats had improved over the last few months, especially with Nick's careful analyses and tips for improvement, it still wasn't anywhere close to where Han's win ratio was. And on top of that, Han rarely even died during a match. Connor always watched in awe as the other player's fingers flew over the keyboard with such ease, like his character's moves were just part of his instincts. The only match they had gone against each other, Connor's team had lost miserably. <br/>But being friends with Han only motivated Connor to never get complacent with his skills. There was competition far greater than he'd ever imagined out here, certainly better players than the one or two people who ever hopped on League back in Nebraska. There was no room for error. Especially when it meant that he'd be on a plane back home, where his broken mess of a family probably wouldn't be super happy to have him back. He shuddered as he thought about his father's reaction if he ever set foot in the house again. <br/>Han nudged him, seemingly sensing Connor's anxieties. "Don't worry, man. You'll make it eventually too. You have great instincts, amazing reflexes. You just need some time. And you need to take a break sometimes." <br/>Connor shook his head. "I literally can't afford a break. I'm on the brink of something great. I can feel it." <br/>"Um, okay, even if that's true," Han said, rolling his eyes. "Maybe you can do that after we get some food? I'm starving. I'm pretty sure my cat is starving too, and you know what happens when cats get hungry?" <br/>Connor shook his head. <br/>"They eat their owners," Han said, with a completely deadpan expression. <br/>Connor laughed. "You're insane. But fine, let's get some food and stop by the pet store." <br/>"You're saving my life," Han said sarcastically. <br/>As they began to walk out of the windowless room in the PC Bang, Connor looked out the window, surprised to see the sun already starting to set from behind the skyscrapers that lined the Seoul skyline. "Holy shit, how did it get so late all of a sudden?" <br/>"That's what happens when you spend all day staring at a computer screen." <br/>"Ugh, you sound like my mom." <br/>"You don't even take your vitamins," Han continued, laughing as they walked down the streets of the city, back to their familiar noodle spot. "You're a disappointment of a son, Connor." <br/>"Now you sound exactly like my mom," Connor sighed. "She never liked how much time I spent on League or... basically anything else on my laptop. I don't think she ever understood what I was doing for so long - all she knows is, like, field work and house work." <br/>"That's what my parents are like too," Han agreed. "They really wanted me to go to college, get a high paying corporate job. They wanted me to set a good example for my other family members. I'm the oldest, so when I went off and decided to do this instead... they weren't exactly happy about it." <br/>"What did you do?" Connor asked. <br/>Han shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though it was clear that talking about this period of his life affected him more than he seemed to want to let on. "I don't know. I moved out, changed my name. Put every little bit of money I had saved from the small competitions I did over the years into this. Hope one day that my parents would forgive me enough to just be happy for my success... if it happens." <br/>Connor punched Han's shoulder lightly. "Dude, it will happen. You're, like, the best player I've ever met." <br/>Han shook his head. "Uh, okay. You live with LS and Max." Before Connor could answer, they stopped at an old park in the middle of the city, one Connor often passed by on his way back to Nick and Max's apartment. He couldn't remember much from his cold rainy nights alone in September, but he was certain that he'd spent a night or two on a bench inside. <br/>"I used to come here, sometimes. When I was a kid," Han explained, as he ducked underneath the flimsy chain that separated the sidewalks and the rest of the park. It was late winter by this point, enough time had passed that there were full sheets of snow covering what used to be grass, a fountain in the middle of the square that was frozen. It reminded Connor of a similar place he used to go to in Nebraska. A clearing in the woods, where he probably shouldn't have been alone as a child, where he'd once nearly come close to drowning in the icy lake that surrounded the meadow. Around the park's ornate black fence, there was a string of festive lighting that illuminated the park. Around them, a few toddlers ran around in the snow, throwing snowballs at each other as their weary parents stood by and watched them closely. <br/>Connor expected Han to duck back out, but to his surprise, his friends plopped down onto the snowy grass, sinking deep into it. <br/>"I thought you said you were starving," Connor said, trying to hold back a laugh at Han's splayed out body. <br/>There was a moment of silence between them, the only sound around them being the laughs of the children and the occasional chatter of passersby on the sidewalks. Then, Han took in a deep breath, one that felt desperate. As if he was on life support, struggling for one more ounce of air. "I don't feel alive enough to be starving," he spoke quietly. <br/>Connor did a double take. "What?" <br/>Han blinked, and in the dim light of the streetlights, Connor could see his eyes glaze over. "This game. It's all I have going for me, Connor. Without it, I'm nothing. Especially in this country. I might as well be dead to my family." <br/>Connor nodded, slowly. "Yeah. Welcome to the club." <br/>Han laughed at this, though it was more sorrowful than jovial, his throat caught by a sob. He closed his eyes tight, pushing his head deep into the snow. If Connor didn't know any better, he'd assume that Han was trying to bury himself alive. <br/>He zipped his coat up and put on his mittens, then joined his friend, lying on the snow next to Han. His back felt damp and his legs started freezing through his jeans. How Han found this to be comfortable, Connor had no idea. <br/>A silence fell over them again, then Connor spoke up. <br/>"I stand by what I said, you know" Connor said, "I don't think Nick or Max's Jungle play could ever even come close to yours. You're in a different league." <br/>"You're too nice, Connor," Han sighed. "In reality I feel like a huge failure all the time. I made a mistake and went on Instagram yesterday for the first time in like three months," he admitted. "It only made me feel so much worse." <br/>Connor grimaced. He'd purposefully deactivated all of his accounts the night before he vanished from his home. At first, he'd justified doing it to minimize any risk of being tracked or contacted. But the truth was that it just hurt him too much to look at the lives his classmates were living. To see how much had changed since he left. To see how much hadn't, how people had just... moved on. "That stuff isn't real. It's just the shit people want to post to show off to other people about how great their lives are," he said, trying to reassure Han. Or, perhaps he was really trying to reassure himself. <br/>"There's nothing fake about a medical school acceptance," Han countered. "Or getting recruited for one of the top law firms in the country." <br/>"Dude, you literally won LCK over SKT this year." <br/>"And got knocked out in worlds semis immediately after." <br/>"But ROX vs SKT is the single greatest <br/>series ever played. That series was a banger!" <br/>"We still lost. Which I'm sure the news <br/>of made it back to my hometown. People don't take kindly to failure where I'm from. Even second place is <br/>considered the same as last place." <br/>"Damn what kind of people do you know?" <br/>"Overachievers," Han said. "People who probably look at me as the idiot who dropped out because he was so nervous that he couldn't pass his Suneung." <br/>"I'm sorry - what?" <br/>Han chuckled bitterly, his breath puffing out into the cold winter air.. "It's a really big exam we need to take to get into university. It's life-defining, can make or break your career path for the rest of your life. People study for years. Waste their youth on nothing but cram schools and hours pulling out their hair while staring at math problems and English passages. My friends would wake up at 6 AM, go to school, then study all night afterward until 2 AM. Then wake up and do it all again." <br/>Connor's mouth dropped open. "For years?" <br/>"There's no such thing as a childhood. Mine was spent in study rooms. There was a life-defining test to prep for every year," Han shook his head. "I failed most of them." <br/>Connor scoffed. "Welcome to the club. I don't think I've done well on a school report since they stopped measuring how good we were at napping." <br/>Han turned to him curiously. "You had report cards for sleeping?" <br/>"When we were five, in kindergarten," Connor smiled. "Those were really the good days. I got As in playing in the playground, napping quietly, drinking my juice box. It was truly a star student." <br/>Han laughed at this. "Damn. I think I was in a cram school when I was five." <br/>"Dude, your life is too depressing," Connor replied. "Tell me this isn't how everyone in South Korea is." <br/>"I wish I could," Han said seriously. "I wish I could tell you that it gets better for most people and that if I fail, I could still go home, try again. That I won't be homeless or end up in a soul-sucking job for the rest of my life." <br/>"How do you deal with it then? Knowing that this is it?" Connor replied hoarsely. <br/>Han shrugged again. "You just keep going. Hope that it will get better, even though you know it won't. Hope that you'll make it even though the chances are one in a million. Hope you didn't make a decision that cost you your future." <br/>"Hope that someday you'll get the fuck out of where you are." Connor said. <br/>Han turned to face Connor. His face was flush, whether from the emotions or from the chill of the snow, though, Connor couldn't tell. "Why did you leave America?" <br/>"What do you mean? To join LCK. Play League with the best of them. And, obviously, meet you," Connor joked. <br/>"Right. You spent all your money on an international flight and moved permanently to a new country just to find me." <br/>"No shit. I stalked you for months just to find you at that PCBang." <br/>"And now that you have, you're going to lure me into feeling safe and trusting you, then kill me and take over my life?" Han finished. <br/>Connor laughed at Han's deadpan expression. "You're crazy. Yes, that was exactly my evil plan. How did you know?" <br/>"I knew ever since you came up to me at the PCBang with a knife. You're pretty bad at the whole serial killer thing." <br/>"I'll make a note of that." <br/>Han shook his head, his smile disappearing. "No, but... really. You left because of more than just a dream to play games. Be honest. You could have done that in America too. Or just waited a few years. Why take this risk? End up homeless?" <br/>"You really don't know how much life sucks in Nebraska. It's like a literal hell hole. Like, a gaping entrance to Satan's lair in the middle of an endless cornfield. Like a real-life version of your nightmares-" <br/>"Okay, okay, I get the idea," Han said incredulously. "You really, really don't like... uh..." <br/>"Nebraska." Connor supplied helpfully. "Although you're probably better off never knowing the name. I wish I never had." <br/>"And that's why you came out here? Because you were tired of corn?" <br/>"Sure," Connor said. <br/>"But, what about your parents? They weren't sad that you were going to leave? Or angry? And they let you go by yourself?" <br/>Connor sighed. He usually tried not to let people know about his whole life story - tried to keep the knowledge about his past to a minimum. The last thing he wanted was for others to look down on him for his shitty gene pool. Or worse. Pity him. <br/>Still, there was something about Han that made him want to spill it out anyway. Connor hadn't had a friend in so long. Probably since they stopped putting things like "made good friends today" on report cards he brought home. <br/>But laying here in the cold snow, having tiny, crystallized flakes gently grace their faces as they looked up into the sky, the only heat coming from the person laying next to him... it was something he'd missed. It reminded him of winter mornings with his sister, when she'd drag him outside and force (well, maybe gently persuade) him into making a snow angel with her before their mom came outside with some hot chocolate. And, on a good day, when Connor's dad had shut down the shop for the holidays, he would actually see the old man with a sober smile. <br/>"My parents... well, they don't exactly know that I'm here. They don't really know where I am." Connor admitted. "And I might be considered missing in most parts of the US." If my father even bothered to go to the police. He finished the sentence in his mind. <br/>Han looked at him in shock for a moment, then let out a breath. "I thought my family life was total shit." <br/>Connor choked on a laugh. "Seems like a common theme." <br/>Han sighed, pulling himself up off of the snowy grass. Where he'd lay, there was a large imprint of a person in the snow. Kind of like the snow angels Connor used to make with his sister. <br/>Han held out his hand for Connor to take, and pulled him up with him. <br/>"Ugh. Let's go get noodles now. The pity party has got me starving too now," Connor said. <br/>"And cat food?" <br/>"Of course, cat food," Connor said. "I can't let you get eaten by your cat before you make it into the big leagues and prove all the dumbasses from your school wrong forever!" <br/>Han grinned at this, as they began to walk back towards the sidewalk and head towards Mr. Park's restaurant. Suddenly, though the winter air was frigid and Connor was bundled in so many layers he couldn't feel his body, he'd never felt more unburdened and free.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mr. Park had always had an intuition about certain things. The weather was one - although that could be attributed to the many nights he’d spent outside as a child, where knowing whether the night would bring storms and squalls or clearer skies was paramount for survival. But the other sense of intuition, although it was connected to the first, was more ethereal, difficult to pin down and describe. He could sense storms on the horizon, literal ones. But he could also sense the storms brewing inside a person. Storms that were soon headed his way, meant to collide with his life in some roundabout way. <br/>	That was what he had felt the morning of June 15, 2016. He’d woken up in a daze so strong that his daughter had nearly sent him to the hospital for signs of having a stroke. Mr. Park was glad he’d snapped out of it by that point  - heaven knew they didn’t have the money for a hospital visit in this economy. But the daze held on for hours, like he wasn’t even in his body. Something big was happening, something that would change the course of someone’s life. A storm, a burst of energy that catalyzed a change only few would understand. <br/>Few believed him when he told them these things, often writing him off as a crazy boy - and now a crazy old man. When it turned out that he had been right, however, in all the occasions he’d felt this clairvoyant pull, they denied it completely, pretended that it was just coincidence that he had known all along. <br/>	But Mr. Park knew better. <br/>	As he walked out of the back room of his restaurant, he began to sense the energy from June 15th again - an electric spark that couldn’t be contained. Startled, he set down the bowl of noodles he was carrying out, causing Eun-kyung to cry out in protest for him slowing down service. But Mr. Park was too focused on this feeling to notice. He turned towards the front of the restaurant, where two boys sat - the American, and the other Korean boy who often accompanied him. They were sitting deep in talk over dinner, and he could feel a storm brewing. Whatever was going on, it was going to be the start of something big. </p><p>*** </p><p>	Connor nearly dropped his spoon. <br/>	“You’re what?” <br/>	Han looked down sheepishly, unable to hide his face completely from Connor, but evidently trying his best. “I’m sorry, Connor! I just didn’t know when to bring it up. I’ve been so stressed recently and with everything going on with you I didn’t want to stress you out either.” <br/>	Connor chewed on his lip, trying to hold off on saying anything. He swallowed the lump building in his throat. “No, I mean. I’m happy for you, dude. I think that’s amazing.” He leaned back, looking out the window, trying to avoid Han’s piercing gaze. He knew his friend could probably see right through the words. “I just - wow. SKT. I didn’t even know they were holding tryouts this weekend.” <br/>	“It’s kind of a… you know someone who knows someone else kind of deal. They usually don’t just recruit online and let everyone know. Or, you know…” <br/>	“Everyone and their mother would show up,” Connor finished. “Yeah, I get it. That’s great, man. I’m super happy for you. That’s one of the best teams in the nation the world! That’s like… dream team status right there.” <br/>	“Yeah, well, I have to actually get in first,” Han said. “I might not even make it past the first round. I’m trying to replace Bengi. It’s not an easy battle.” <br/>	“That’s bullshit. If they don’t take you, it’s their loss.” <br/>	Han looked at him, clearly not believing a word he was saying. “Look, I know this means a lot for you too. I don’t want to make you feel..” <br/>	“What?” Connor cut him off. <br/>	“Just. I don’t know. Bad? I don’t want you to think that you have to be on my timeline. Because you don’t. You’re still really young.” <br/>	Connor rolled his eyes. “You’re like a year and a half older than me.” <br/>	“A year and a half is a long time!” Han countered. “I was basically nothing a year and a half ago. You still have tons of time, Connor. And you’re going to be great.” <br/>	Connor took a big gulp of his noodles, trying to avoid looking at Han. “I think you’re going to do great. Like I said. Best Jungler I’ve ever met. Let me know how it goes.” <br/>	“Actually,” Han said, hesitating for a moment before he continued, “Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to come? I could really use the moral support. Like I said. None of my family would ever come to this kind of thing, especially because we aren’t really talking anymore. You’re kind of my only friend other than my cat. And they don’t allow pets in the building.” <br/>	Connor knew he should say yes. It was something that anyone would do for their friends, it was the least he could do for Han after everything the other player had done for him. But something held him back. The idea of seeing all those people trying out, so many people better than him. Further along than him in his dream. It stung, especially when the stakes were so high for him. <br/>	“Uh, I.. I can’t do it this weekend. I have a big practice thing with Nick,” Connor lied. “I mean, I would really really come if I could. I really wish I could,” he repeated,  then winced at how defensive he probably sounded. <br/>	If Han noticed, he didn’t say anything. He simply sighed, “It’s okay. I get it. Training comes first.” He changed the subject. “How is Nick doing?” <br/>Connor looked up, surprised at the question. He hadn’t told Han anything about Nick and Max’s arguments. He respected their privacy, and definitely didn’t want to be the guest that spilled all their secrets. “What? What do you mean?” he said, feigning ignorance. <br/>Han shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s just rumors around the League high elo player community that he’s dealing with some shit. His streams have been just all over the place recently and he hasn’t uploaded to his Youtube channel in like a month. Even industry officials are talking.” <br/>“What?” <br/>“You haven’t heard anything? I mean, you are his student. He should tell you if there’s something going on in his life that’s hindering his performance. It could have financial consequences for you too.” <br/>	Connor tried not to worry as he thought about all the tense conversations that Nick and Max had throughout the last month. He’d been so focused on himself - his performance, his goals, his failures - that Connor had barely taken note of them as building to a larger problem. But he distinctly remembered a conversation they’d had talking about how much it cost to live in South Korea. How much medical bills cost. How sponsors were usually unwilling to help with expenses past basic rent. Maybe they were in deeper trouble than they’d let on. <br/>“I’m sure it’s fine. You know how online forums and shit are. There’s always some rumors going on,” Connor said. <br/>Han nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s probably nothing,” he said reassuringly. “I mean, remember, like, four months ago when everyone thought that one streamer died because he didn’t stream for like a week? And then it just turned out his girlfriend had a baby.” <br/>Connor chuckled. “Well I’ll let you know if it turns out that either of them had a kid.” <br/>Han laughed. “I just meant that you don’t necessarily have to worry, I guess. Just check in with them. Sometimes Nick can be a little…” he trailed off, trying to think of the right word. <br/>“Ambitious?” <br/>“To a fault. He gets burned out but doesn’t realize it until it’s too late.” Han paused. “At least, that’s the sense I get from his streams,” he said quickly. <br/>Connor thought back to the argument he’d seen a few nights ago. It made sense that burnout was probably the issue. And it lined up with what Max had been saying. “I’ll ask,” he promised Han. “But, it’s probably nothing, right?” <br/>“Right,” Han said slowly, as if he was speaking more for Connor’s sake than because he actually meant what he said. “Probably nothing.” <br/>Connor hoped he was right. </p><p>*** </p><p>	The trudge back home after the longest day of Connor’s life - well, at least since he started living with Nick - was more painful than usual. He’d said his goodbyes to Han at the restaurant, initially thankful for some time away from his friend. The conversation they’d had was far too heavy for Connor to deal with, and now thinking about everything Han said - about his parents, about SKT, and, especially, about Nick’s issues - was grating on him. <br/>	But now that he was alone on his walk back to the apartment, the questions only began to plague his mind more. <br/>Why hadn’t he become good enough to compete alongside Han? What was limiting him anyway? He was a talented player, he’d been working hard since 2013 to improve, focusing every detailed aspect of each character, learning and developing strategies that could defeat higher elo players on the other side. And ever since he’d started being mentored by Nick, Connor had continued to improve his win ratio, especially focusing on teamwork now. <br/>	There was nothing really stopping him from trying out too, was there? <br/>As he entered the apartment, Connor half expected it to be empty again, but it looked like a fairly normal evening. Still, even though the scene in front of him looked calm, Connor didn’t forget Han’s words that evening at the noodle place. Maybe there was way more wrong than Nick and Max had let on to this morning. Connor wasn’t used to their method of almost subconscious communication. His parents had been so horrendously mismatched that every simple conversation had turned into a screaming match, all their problems laid out in a mess on their kitchen table. Connor and his sister in the middle, just trying to eat their cereal and get out of the house for school before it got to be too much to handle. <br/>Nick was sitting at the dinner table, eating one of Max’s culinary creations while engrossed in something in his computer. At first, Connor assumed it would be watching a stream or match, but at a further glance, he realized it was a spreadsheet. <br/>“What are you up to?” he said. <br/>Nick looked up to see him, startled. “Oh, I didn’t hear you come in,” he said. His voice was strange, like it wasn’t coming from him. It felt lost, far away. <br/>“I wasn’t exactly quiet,” Connor said. <br/>Nick blinked. “Yeah, uh, I guess I was just preoccupied.” He quickly shut the laptop before Connor could get a better glance. The spreadsheet looked intense, full of highlighted cells and bold print, rows and columns of numbers all over. Connor wondered what Nick could even need it for. <br/>Before Connor could ask any questions, however, Nick, perhaps trying to avoid a line of interrogation, beat him to it. “Where have you been all day? I haven’t heard from you since you left the PCBang, and that was like four hours ago. It’s nearly midnight. You should be asleep.” <br/>Connor looked at him, annoyed. “I’m not seven years old, I don’t need a bedtime.” <br/>“It’s not about having a bedtime, Connor. You need rest when you’re working so hard all day. You don’t want to burn out early. Like I said this morning.” <br/>“I could say the same to you,” Connor rebutted, recalling the conversation he’d had with Max and the one he’d had with Han. For all he said, Nick wasn’t much better than him. “You’ve been up since 5 AM. Have you even taken a break since then?” <br/>“I’m an adult. I have to deal with adult things,” Nick said, rolling his eyes. “Like bills.” <br/>“Medical bills?” <br/>Nick narrowed his eyes as he looked at Connor. “What?” <br/>“Uh, nothing. I mean. I might have overheard something about you guys being at the doctors. I just thought that the check-up bills might be stressing you out a bit.” <br/>Nick groaned. “Did Max talk to you or something? I didn’t want him to worry you.” <br/>“No, no,” Connor said quickly. “Not Max. I just heard you guys talking about it. But, hey, you know I can help out too. Get a job.” <br/>Nick shook his head. “No, your only job right now is to focus on getting better. We’ll worry about paying the bills. <br/>“But-” Connor began to protest. <br/>“Connor, I told you not to worry. It was just a routine visit. Nothing crazy. Besides, it’s really difficult to get a job as a foreign minor in South Korea. You don’t even know the language. Have you been keeping up with your language class homework?” <br/>Connor grimaced. He’d pushed aside the hour of reading and Korean character writing work last night for the sake of watching another few hours of streaming. He’d meant to do it today, before his class tomorrow, but he’d gotten caught up with Han all evening. Now, even the thought of catching up on it made him tired. <br/>Nick seemed to get the picture. He sighed. “Okay, well, I don’t think you’ll be competition ready anytime soon if you focus on getting a job instead of just practicing your Korean. So bring your homework out here and I’ll help you go through it.” <br/>Connor groaned. “Do I have to?” <br/>“Unless you want to be homeless again,” Nick deadpanned. Connor got the message. <br/>They slogged through the first thirty minutes of the Korean language workbook, mostly with Nick carefully sounding out vowels and words while Connor clumsily followed along, trying to grasp the concepts. After an hour of work, Connor broached the topic he’d really wanted to discuss all along. <br/>“Hey, actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.” <br/>“In Korean.” <br/>Connor sighed. “Uh… yaegihago sip-eo?” <br/>“Close enough,” Nick said. “Shoot.” <br/>“I heard that SKT was having tryouts this weekend in Incheon. Not too far from here. Did you know about it?” <br/>Nick gave him a funny look. “You think I didn’t know about tryouts for one of the biggest League teams in the world?” <br/>“Well you didn’t say anything to me!” <br/>“Why?” Nick asked. “Did you want to go? I think the first round is open to coaches.” <br/>Connor hesitated. He knew what he was about to say was likely not going to go over well with Nick. “Actually, I was thinking of trying out. It’s open, right? As long as I know it’s happening, I’m in for the first round.” <br/>Nick remained silent for a moment, although it felt like ages for Connor. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly together. “Wait, let me get this straight. Did I hear you right? You want to try and compete for one of the biggest teams in South Korea… and you basically just started training?” <br/>“That’s not true! I’ve been training since I was in middle school. That’s at least four years under my belt.” <br/>	Nick snorted. “I hate to break it to you but that’s not training. That’s just playing League. Like an amateur. Seriously, Connor, why do you want to do this now?” <br/>	“I’ve just been hanging out with some other players who are trying out and I thought it made sense to try out too. I mean, just to see what it’s like! Who’s to say that I won’t get in?” <br/>	“I’m to say,” Nick said. “I’ve had years of experience in this business, Connor. Trust me, it’s just unheard of for someone your age with your experience to get into a team like SKT on their first shot. Or even their second. And you don’t want to show up looking like a dumbass when they’ll remember your name. There are scouts at these things.” <br/>	“I’m not going to look like a dumbass! I’ve been training hard for the past three months. Even harder ever since you started coaching me.” <br/>	“Yeah, and other people have been training like that for years. Who are your friends that are trying out anyway?” <br/>	Connor bit his lip. “Han Wang Ho.” <br/>	Nick raised an eyebrow at this. “You’ve been hanging out with Han?’ <br/>	“He’s actually really helpful. He’s a great Jungler and he’s really good at teamwork too.” <br/>	“I believe that,” Nick said. “I believe he’s on another level compared to you. Connor, Han has been training since you’ve been in, like, elementary school. He’s won competitions, competed for a great team already. Literally miles ahead of you. Yes, you’re talented - I think you’re easily on the same level as the top players. But talent only goes so far without experience. And besides, Peanut’s good, but people are still not sure he’s going to beat out Bengi of all people.” <br/>	“Han’s an amazing Jungler, though,” Connor frowned. “He’s literally a shoe in.” <br/>	“That’s what you don’t understand, Connor,” Nick said, groaning. “No one is a shoe-in here. You’re like playing minor leagues trying to compete against LeBron. It’s not going to work out for you.” <br/>	“I don’t understand sports terminology.” <br/>	“What I’m saying is,” Nick continued, sighing, “You’re nowhere near as good as you think you are. Do you know who you’d be trying to replace with your position?” <br/>	Connor fell silent, realizing how little he’d thought this through very little before he’d pitched it to his mentor. “Uh… not really?” <br/>	“Faker. You’d be replacing Faker.” <br/>	There was another silence as Connor took this in. What he’d thought was a small challenge, something he could easily surpass, was now seeming like a high stakes mission. Faker was the best player in the world, there was no question about that. No League player worth a penny would argue otherwise, and everyone Connor knew religiously followed the guy and learned his strategies. There were whole League academies just built around analyzing Faker’s play. <br/>But there was a part of him that didn’t let him back out now. He’d come this far, staked his pride on this. It was a trait he’d gotten from his father, an ugly one that reared its head at the worst moments. But at that moment, all Connor could think about was how far he’d gotten, how far he still needed to go. How far ahead Han was. And what would happen if he failed and had to go back to Nebraska to his parents. He had to do this. <br/>	“You said it yourself!” Connor exclaimed, jumping out of his seat. “I’m talented! And SKT will see that. They have to.” <br/>	Nick sighed. “Clearly you only listened to the first part of that sentence.” <br/>	“Look, Nick, I’m going to do this whether you like it or not. Don’t hold me back.” <br/>There was a tense moment of silence as they stared at each other from across the kitchen. Nick had never looked so tired in all the months that Connor had seen him. Instead of arguing with Connor, Nick simply ran a hand through his hair and sucked in a breath “Well. I can’t stop you. Do what you want, Connor.” <br/>Without saying another word, Nick grabbed his laptop, turned off the lights, and walked away from Connor.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
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    <p>Count me in for this weekend. <br/>	Really? You’re going to come?! <br/>	I’m going to compete! <br/>	….what <br/>	See you on Saturday! It’s going to be great, dude <br/>	See you there, I guess. </p><p>	There was an electricity coursing through Connor’s veins as he stepped off of the platform in Incheon. His bag carried essentials for the whole weekend, with enough cash to spend a night couchsurfing at a fellow player’s house. Everything felt alive around him now, each step he took made Connor wonder if he was stepping closer to his dream. <br/>	The thought of beating Faker should have terrified him - the chances of these tryouts going well was basically slim to none if his standard was beating out the best player in the circuit. But something pulled Connor forward anyway, an almost stupidly confident voice inside him that kept insisting… what if? <br/>	And so he grabbed his backpack and headed for the Telecom HQ building, ready to fulfill his final dream. No more nights spent awake, wondering if he’d be back on a plane to Nebraska the next week. No more days hunched over a computer with a bunch of other hopefuls in the PCBang. And certainly no more annoying lectures from Nick, who always assumed he knew better than Connor. After today, he’d be climbing rank, kicking ass, taking names, and finally, finally having a plan that involved more than surviving until the next day. <br/>	Han met him outside of the Telecom building. He was dressed smartly in a warm fleece jacket and sleek black jeans, and carried a messenger briefcase instead of his usual ratty backpack. From far away, he looked less like an esports player and more like a businessman. Connor, on the other hand, had thrown on a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt that didn’t smell too horrible. <br/>	“Hey, dude!” he said. “What’s with the fit?” <br/>	Han looked him up and down. “You’re not changing?” he said, <br/>	Connor suddenly felt naked in his old pajamas. “I don’t know,” he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I just threw on whatever.” <br/>	Han nodded. “Well, I didn’t feel like meeting Faker and Bengi wearing whatever.” There was a catch to his tone that Connor hadn’t heard from him before, and he didn’t smile as he looked back at the entrance to the building. Connor chalked it up to nerves. Han always got a little snappy before big events. <br/>	“What are we waiting out here in the cold for?” he asked. <br/>	“You want to try walking into Telecom’s building without an escort? Go ahead and try your luck with the doorman.” <br/>	“Fuck, dude, wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?” <br/>	Han glanced at him. “Maybe. But at least I don’t look like I didn’t get out of bed at all.” <br/>	The words would have been a joke between friends any other day, but Han’s icy tone stabbed Connor like a knife. But before he could say anything back, or ask the other player what was wrong, the door to the headquarters opened. A young woman walked out briskly, looking at them with an upturned nose. When she saw Han, she smiled and spoke in Korean rapidly. They both laughed at something. Connor couldn’t catch much of what she had said. <br/>	She turned to him next. “Ah. You are the American,” she said. She gave him a onceover. “You are here to ...try out? Or did you fill out the sign in sheet incorrectly? We have a different sign in sheet for spectators.” <br/>	Connor could see Han give him a smug look at this, and he grit his teeth in irritation. “Yes. I’m here to try out. I signed up under tryouts, didn’t I?” <br/>	“Hm,” The woman said, still giving him a patronizing look. “Okay. Follow me inside, then.” <br/>	And so they entered the dragon’s den.</p><p>TO BR CONTINUED</p>
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